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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939372">Seven Devils</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsymanv/pseuds/marsymanv'>marsymanv</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst, Curse Breaking, Dean Ships It, F/M, Gen, Holy Grail, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Long, Nephilim, Plot Twists, Protective Sam Winchester, Romance, Soulless Sam Winchester, Supernatural - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:08:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>109,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsymanv/pseuds/marsymanv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of drunken escapades, hangover turns out to be the least of Marlene's problems.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Winchester/ Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dark Academia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>Seven Devils</b>
</p><p class="p1">Chapter 1 / Dark Academia</p><p class="p1">"<em>I don't know about you,</em></p><p class="p1"><em>but I'm feeling 22</em>"</p><p class="p1">- Taylor Swift<b></b></p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>New-Haven, Connecticut </b>
</p><p class="p1">
  <b>March 22, 2009</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The bar was packed. In all fairness, it was the last day of spring break, and being the only alcoholic safe haven near campus for miles, the turnout wasn't really quite so surprising. The creme de la creme of American academia, future alumni of one of the best universities in the country, licking salt off a red-head in a crop top. It was Olivia from Marlene's Behavioural Science class, and the girl, it seemed, preferred the practical approach.</p><p class="p1">"So I, like, told him do go fuck himself," a blonde said importantly, half-finished with her fifth cocktail. She was having trouble catching the straw with her mouth.</p><p class="p1">Marley nearly snorted, "Oh, did you now? Is that exactly how you said it?"</p><p class="p1">"I said, "Dear Mr. Dellibey, I don't give a flying fuck about this thesis," Tessa was slurring, her hazel eyes going every which way. Tessa sent her other friend Maddock a meaningful look, "So you can shove it right up your pale Irish ass and make it St. Patrick's Day."</p><p class="p1">"Nah, what she said was," Maddock cut in, holding his finger up in suspense, "Dear Mr.Dillibey, I'll do anything, and I mean <em>anything</em>, just please, please don't tell the Dean." His impression of Tessa was half desperate old Hollywood starlet, half anguished hooker.</p><p class="p1">Marlene erupted in drunken, overly loud laughter.</p><p class="p1">"I do not sound like that!" Tessa squealed, comically offended.</p><p class="p1">"Sure you do when you need something."</p><p class="p1">"I do not! Marls, tell him."</p><p class="p1">Marley looked between her friends over the rim of her cocktail glass, trying to hide behind the little umbrella. "I mean, he's not <em>wrong</em>."</p><p class="p1">Tess threw the both of them an offended glare, "Of, piss off!" she then glanced at her iPhone, and the look of betrayal was instantly replaced by that of elation, "Holy shit, Marls, it's almost midnight!" she yelled over the music, some Red Hot Chilli Pappers song that had everyone in the bar singing along. It smelled of cigarette smoke, booze and chilli fries, and Marlene was enjoying every second of it.</p><p class="p1">"Oh my God!" she squealed with equal excitement. Maddock handed her another shot, which she downed with not a second's hesitation.</p><p class="p1">"Hell yes!" Tess broke in drunken giggles and sauntered to the bar through the thick crowd of students, "Hey! Hey, Eddy," she called out to the handsome barman. Blue eyes, deliciously chilsled features and a smile that had every girl on campus swooning. He looked up at the waisted blonde with good-natured exasperation, amid pouring out shots for other customers, "Can you put on that song we talked about?"</p><p class="p1">Eddy sighed and filled a pint of bear for some college kid. Grad school, of course, "The things I do for you, Theresa," he shook his head, a shadow of a dimpled smile appearing on his face.</p><p class="p1">Tessa blew him a lewd kiss followed by a seductive wink. That would give any guy all kinds of sinful thoughts but made Eddy chuckle. Like Marley and Maddock, he knew the feisty blonde was all talk.</p><p class="p1">As soon as the familiar notes of the song filled the bar, Marlene cried out an exhilarating "Holy shit!" and started jumping up and down to Taylor Swift's "22".</p><p class="p1">"I don't know about you!" she screamed along and then turned to Tessa and Maddock, pointing a finger at them, "But I'm feeling 22! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!" Thankfully, Maddock was drunk enough to dance with them, yelling out "22" with a fervour of a fourteen-year-old girl on one of Taylor Swift's tours. Marlene sang and screamed and laughed, cocktail splashing, hair flying around, bubbling with excitement and alcohol and just...happiness. Her excitement was so invigorating and infectious that soon everyone in the bar started cheering, yelling "Happy Birthday!" while Marley danced and gave drunken curtsies.</p><p class="p1">Maddock ordered more shots, twenty two of them, which at first, Eddy was kind of hesitant, but Tessa assured him that they could handle it. At least, she had high hopes for their alcohol tolerance after that one music festival in Nashville that Tess had dragged them to cause she was stalking some rising country star.</p><p class="p1">"Okay, eleven shots each, you two," she told Maddy and Marlene with a sneaky smile, "Let's see who wins."</p><p class="p1">"What do we get for that?" asked Maddock.</p><p class="p1">Marlene snorted, "Who cares!" and downed the first shot. Then the second, the third...She finished all of them in under a minute and threw her hands up when she was done. The win was followed by claps and cheers, which made Marley crave even more attention. With a feline smile that was so unlike her, she leaned over the bar closer to Eddy, "Care to give me some lime?"</p><p class="p1">The barman cocked a brow and gave her a piece of lime, blue eyes darkening in anticipation of what's to follow. And Marlene didn't disappoint. With a mischievous grin that was half — okey, maybe more than a half — alcohol and half her long-harboured dream, she put the slice of lime in Eddy's mouth, which he opened almost on command.</p><p class="p1">"Better," Marlene whispered and leaned closer. In one languid movement, she took the slice out of his mouth, brushing her lips against his. Tessa squealed, the crowed irrupted in whoops, and cheers. Marley gave Eddy a wink and threw away the peel with a mischievous smile. Cheeks slightly flushed, Eddy returned it, and they both laughed.</p><p class="p1">"A minute 'till midnight!" Tessa reminded everyone, eyes glued to her iPhone. In moments like these, Marlene realised how much she loved drunk people. Mostly, because when intoxicated, they were ready to cheer on everything if it meant they got to yell and drink and be complete idiots.</p><p class="p1">"Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty three!" the crowd chanted with Tessa, "...fifty-seven, fifty-eight!"</p><p class="p1">Marlene's entire face hurt from laughing but she couldn't stop and kept dancing. Giddy, she turned to Eddy who was counting down with the crowd, and he looked back with that winsome, cocky, dimpled glory of a smile, "Fifty-eight, fifty-nine..."</p><p class="p1">"HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, MALREY!" Tessa yelled at the top of her lungs. Everyone raised their glasses and began clinking, the noise louder than the music. Marlene spilled a little of the drink on her yellow dress, and Tessa, the dutiful friend she was, grabbed the nearest napkin and started aggressively rubbing at her chest, which only made Marley laugh harder. She pushed Tess away and couldn't help but glance at Eddy again.</p><p class="p1">Instead of a flirty smile, though, there was a gaping hole, his entire face scorched, skin melting off. He stared back at her, a look in his eyes full of malice and snide.</p><p class="p1">The last thing Marlene saw were his eyes.</p><p class="p1">Pitch-black.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>The next day </b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan wasn't an Olympic drinker. By far. However, that tiny detailed never discouraged her, for if there was one thing Marlene undoubtedly was, it was hopeful. Annoyingly so, even, if you asked her friend Maddock.</p><p class="p1">That was why after every night of drinking (which it would surprise you how many of those a month were needed in order to survive four years of college and now grad school), Marley hoped to peacefully fall asleep in her bed after finishing her night-time beauty routine. Yeah, that never happened. The best Marlene could actually hope for was brushing her teeth.</p><p class="p1">The moment she opened her eyes, or rather tried to because her mascara-covered eyelashes had almost glued together over the night, Marley found the world devoid of any hope. Her face felt hot, her temples pulsating with pain and her mouth felt dry and cottony. And something was vibrating.</p><p class="p1"><em>I used to think maybe you love me, now baby I'm sure </em>—</p><p class="p1">Yup, that was her ringtone.</p><p class="p1">Groaning and grunting like the weight of the entire world had suddenly fallen upon her scrawny shoulders, Marlene rolled onto her back and padded the bed for the phone. Thankfully, it happened to be in the nearest vicinity (under her ass, exactly), and Marley brought the wretched, noisy thing to her ear, "Yeah?"</p><p class="p1">There was a loud sigh on the other side and then, "Thank God!"</p><p class="p1">Marlene flinched from the sheer volume of her father's voice, "Not feeling really thankful right now..."</p><p class="p1">"Where have you been? Why haven't you picked up? Did something happen? Are you okay? I've been calling for <em>hours</em>, Marlene. I thought we'd agreed that you'd text me every two hours — "</p><p class="p1">"<em>Dad</em>," Marlene cut him off with all the force she had in her, which wasn't much, "I'm fine. I'm in my bedroom," she took a look around to make sure that was indeed the case. The huge Beatles poster, an ungodly amount of fairy lights, a poster of Gone with the Wind — yes, it was her humble introverted abode, "I was just about to go make myself some breakfast and — "</p><p class="p1">"What do you mean you're in your bedroom?"</p><p class="p1">Marlene's yawn morphed into a confused frown, "In whose bedroom did you expect me to be?"</p><p class="p1">"Don't you have classes today?"</p><p class="p1">"I..." she froze. Then looked at the pizza-clock on her nightstand. The breadsticks showed 11:30, "I'm gonna call you back!"</p><p class="p1">"Marl —"</p><p class="p1">Defying all laws of a hangover, Marley jumped out of bed in the same yellow dress that had some stains on it like an impressionist's canvas. She stormed into the bathroom of the apartment she shared with Tessa and found a little sticker on the mirror next to a lipstick kiss: "<em>Beauty sleep is essential in your old age</em>", it said. <em>Fucking Tess</em>.</p><p class="p1">Marlene brushed her teeth and the tangled mess that was her hair, splashed some cold water on her puffy face and swiped off the mascara smudges under her eyes. That was the best she could do in such a short amount of time, so the world and her Comparative Linguistics professor would just have to deal.</p><p class="p1">She grabbed a pair of pumps and jumped her way to the kitchen to get a granola bar while putting them on. Ripping the package with her teeth, Marley shoved the bar into her mouth, threw the laptop into her tote bag and grabbed a couple of books. She looked at the clock in the living room: 11:55.</p><p class="p1">"Fuck," Marley breathed and ran out of the apartment. She lurched to a halt in the foyer, though. Had she locked the door? Whatever, if they got robbed, it would be Tessa's fault for not waking her up. And so Marlene resumed her marathon. She thought she must've looked like one of those crazy joggers she usually met on her way to class. When she wasn't freaking late. Marlene was never late.</p><p class="p1">She was sprinting through campus like a woman possessed, surroundings blurring into mush — she'd forgotten her contacts, dammit. The body Marlene had been sheltering from any athletic activity for 22 years was not prepared for what the current torture. And so it was no wonder that in her hungover delirium, Marlene's Usain Bolt-worthy feat result in failure. That is to say, she literally ran into someone. And the books she was holding fell out of her hands and onto the ground.</p><p class="p1">"I'm so sorry," Marley said and crouched to collect her belongings, while gently muttering "<em>fuck, fuck, fuck</em>" under her breath.</p><p class="p1">The guy chuckled, squatting down next to her, "It's okay," he said, handing her some of the books. It would've been extremely romantic on any other day, but right now Marlene was too freaked out to fantasise. She put the books in her tote bag and finally looked up at the guy she'd assaulted, "Thank y —"</p><p class="p1">A shrill ripped out of Marlene's mouth instead as she fell back down, staring at the disfigured face in front of her. At his black eyes. The molten skin, the horrid darkness...</p><p class="p1">"Didn't your mama teach you it's rude to stare? Oh, wait a minute," the guy — <em>the creature</em> — pursed its lips in thought. Then it smiled, "She's <em>dead</em>."</p><p class="p1">Marlene squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it was a sick hallucination, but he was right there, with his sharp teeth and burning skin as though stuck in torturous agony and yet completely unbothered by it. Speechless and horrified, she scampered to her feet and ran as fast as she could, resisting the urge to look back.</p><p class="p1">What the hell had she taken last night?</p><p class="p1">Marley entered the familiar building and hurried up the stairs to the auditorium. Her heart was thumping from the exercise and the image of the black-eyed creature, his voice still ringing in her ears. "<em>She's dead.</em>" How did he — it — know that? <em>Because it wasn't real, you idiot</em>.</p><p class="p1">The old wooden doors of the auditorium were closed — little surprise there — and Marley only hoped that the screech wouldn't be too loud. Thankfully, at least <em>that</em> didn't go awry, and Marlene managed to slip in unnoticed. She took a seat next to a girl she'd never seen before — probably because Marley would usually sit in the front, the perfect teacher's pet that she was — and gave her a tight-lipped smile. The girl said nothing and continued to chew gum, her face expressionless. Marlene cleared her throat and opened the laptop, ready to follow the lecture.</p><p class="p1">It was the last semester of her first year in grad school, and Marley was <em>excited</em>. Now, excitement is not necessarily the first thing you would associate with school, but things worked very differently in the world of Marlene Eleonor Ter-Gabrielyan.</p><p class="p1">Her father was an renowned theologist and anthropologist Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan, a man with 3 PhD's, an acclaimed scholar whose works had been published in 37 languages around the world and, as it happened, the current head of the Folklore &amp; Mythology department at Harvard University.</p><p class="p1">That is to say, thirst for knowledge was in Marlene's blood. She loved seeing her father buried in books in his study, a cup of tea always by his side. When she was little, she would hop on his lap, and Arthur would tell her all kinds of stories he was researching — child-friendly versions of them, anyway — and show her beautiful illustrations of fairies and princesses, and kings. Although as Marlene grew up, she came to realise that folklore was much less fairytale and more blood, nudity and eating children, she still associated it with those peaceful evenings in her father's study, the smell of green jasmine tea and the crackle of the fireplace.</p><p class="p1">But as much as Marlene was fascinated by stories themselves, what interested her most was the manner in which they were told. The languages with which they had been weaved throughout centuries of cultural development. And so in high school, Marley had decided that she wanted to study Linguistics and major in old languages that were barely in use anymore. Tessa always found it endlessly amusing. <em>"How do you say 'Do you want fries with that' in Middle English?"</em> she'd say to which Marley would usually reply with a middle finger. Everyone knew what she'd be doing after graduation — follow in her father's footsteps.</p><p class="p1">"Now, if we look at a language, any Indo-European language belonging to, say, the Romance family," Professor Lomtov said from the dais below. Marlene stayed fairly oblivious to him, head stuck in her laptop, searching for the right file, "If we look at it from the diachronic perspective, what phonetic transformations would we find it has undergone over the corse of history?"</p><p class="p1">Marley's entire body was shaking from the previous encounter, thoughts scattered as she scoured the desktop for the right file. She really needed coffee. The front of the auditorium was engrossed in a heated discussion about Romance languages but Marlene was too busy shivering like a crack-addict.</p><p class="p1">At last, she found the file and double-clicked on it. Dozens of pages worth of notes popped up on her screen, and Marlene began a new paragraph, typing down the date of the lecture. "ASK THE HOT CURLY DUDE WITH A TATTOO FOR NOTES" Marley typed in brackets. She'd missed almost 30 minutes, after all, and there's no telling what could be in the quiz next week.</p><p class="p1">A sudden pain shot through her temples, and Marlene winced. Damn, she should've taken some Ibuprofen. She blew some air to calm her nerves and brought her fingers back to the keys. Yet the pain returned, only this time more acute.</p><p class="p1">"Are you okay?" the girl next to her asked, still unbothered but apparently trying to be considerate.</p><p class="p1">"Yeah, I'm — <em>Ah</em>," Marlene's hand shot to her head, a strange ringing filling her ears. Like a distant whispering of a million voices none if which was intelligible enough to make out.</p><p class="p1">"Hey — "</p><p class="p1">"Is everything alright up there?" Professor Lomtov asked, worried. So much for slipping in unnoticed.</p><p class="p1">Marlene brought herself to open her eyes and instantly wished she hadn't looked at the slightly plump, bearded face of her professor, because it wasn't what she saw.</p><p class="p1">What she saw was a horned monster with skin aflame and black, bottomless eyes, its mouth stretched in a sneer that showed razor-sharp teeth. Suppressing a scream that was clawing at her throat, Marlene looked at the fellow students. Everyone in the auditorium was staring at her: some with wonder and concern, others with annoyance and disgust. None of them were horrified though, which meant that none of them could see...</p><p class="p1">"I'm sorry, I —," Marlene mumbled and began throwing her things back in her tote back. She scurried to her feet and slowly retreated to the exit, legs trembling , "It's, I —"</p><p class="p1">"Miss Ter-Gabrielyan, what is the meaning of this?</p><p class="p1">Marlene stormed out, Professor Lomtov's voice dulled by the thick, oak doors of the auditorium. As soon as it was shut, she leaned against the wood and took a long, deep, calming breath. What the hell was going on with her? First the guy on campus, then her professor, and —</p><p class="p1">Eddy.</p><p class="p1">She remembered it down. The tequila shots, the kiss, the clock striking midnight...his black eyes. And his scorched face. The dimpled smile and — God, had she really kissed him? Marlene felt her eyes burning with unshed tears from the frustration and confusion. Was she going mad? It wasn't unheard of, her father had once told her that Felix — her grandfather — was a complete lunatic who was really into occult stuff and had killed himself because the spirits "told him to". Was this her crazy story that would be told around campus? "That weird girl who stormed out of the lecture because she thought her professor was a monster".</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'm walking on sunshine, O-o-oh, I'm walking on sunshine, O-o-oh, and I f —</em>
</p><p class="p1">"Yes?" Marlene greeted sharply.</p><p class="p1">"Wow, claws off, kitty woman," Maddock laughed in his usual carefree, please-expel-me-I-can't-do-this-anymore manner, "Where you at, Juliet?"</p><p class="p1">"Lomtov's lecture, I...stepped outside for a bit. Listen, I gotta go, or he'll make me list all the Semitic languages," she hoped he wouldn't notice how out of breath she sounded.</p><p class="p1">"Oh, yes, and we do not want <em>that</em>. Whatever the hell it is," Maddock muttered, "Call me later, 'k?"</p><p class="p1">"Sure thing. Now piss off," Marley hung up before he managed to come up with a witty retort. That little piece of normalcy helped her calm down a little, though. Marlene wiped away her tears, put on a pair of enormous headphones that cancelled out any noise and played the loudest music on her iPod. No ringing in her ears now. <em>Bite that</em>.</p><p class="p1">Velvet Underground's Femme Fatal playing on full volume, Marley strolled down to her favourite coffeeshop just outside of campus. Most students were too lazy to make the trip and settled for the cafeteria, but Marlene cherished her alone time too much. So she had chose the cozy piece of heaven that was "Sailor's" caffe. She had actually met the owner. He was an extremely nice man in his thirties who had opened the place after his daughter was born and named it after her. His family would come in once in a while, and Marley would chat with them a little, mostly playing peak-a-boo with their adorable toddler.</p><p class="p1">This time, however, she wanted to avoid all human contact and walked in with her eyes downcast. She mumbled her order to the barista: "Iced latte on coconut milk, no sugar, thank you. Keep the change", grabbed the drink as soon as it was ready and sought refuge in the very corner of the coffeeshop, huddled between soft cushions. </p><p class="p1">Marley took out her laptop and opened up the file with her thesis, hoping that work might distract her from the incessant array of bad thoughts. Plus, her scientific advisor had been e-mailing her about the promised fifteen pages for a week now, so she'd better get some work done. Yes, Marlene was continuously telling herself, staring at the blank page, that was a great idea. Skipping classes was nice, she should've done it more often.</p><p class="p1">Her head started to hurt again. Marley took a sip of her latte. Nice. Cold. Coconuty. <em>Yum</em>.</p><p class="p1">She began to type, "<em>Culture influences behaviour by creating norms through context that is imbued with specific meaning and information about what is an appropriate way of thinking, feeling, behaving</em>," another pang in her temples. Marlene let out a measured breath and continued, "<em>Contexts have many different aspects such as time, place, interactants, content of activities or conversations, the reason why the inter —</em>"</p><p class="p1">
  <em>"But she's dead."</em>
</p><p class="p1">Marlene shut the laptop and finally looked up from the blue screen. She almost had a heart attack right there and then. What in the freaking hell was up with this blasted day?</p><p class="p1">"Yes?" Marley asked, trying to not sound as vexed as she felt. She lowered her headphones, dull notes of Jimi Hendrix's Angel still blasting from them. There was a freaking stranger sitting opposite her. Just sitting there. How long had he been sitting there?</p><p class="p1">"Hey, Marls," he smiled, deep green eyes glimmering with mirth. Well, at least he didn't look like the freaking Hatchet Man. God, she hated those movies.</p><p class="p1">Marley frowned. Then let out a measured breath to regain her zen. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with psycho stalkers. Not this morning. Nah-huh.</p><p class="p1">"Do I know you?"</p><p class="p1">The golden-maned stranger leaned back in his chair, "Strictly in the biblical sense."</p><p class="p1">Marlene stared at him, deadpan. Was that how guys in their thirties flirted? No wonder those obscure pick-up seminars for middle-aged men were so popular these days.</p><p class="p1">She sighed, "Listen, I appreciate your interest, but — "</p><p class="p1">"You think I'm trying to sex you up?" The stranger snorted and then laughed, turning around as if to see if anyone else found it as hilarious as he did.</p><p class="p1">Marlene blushed, "I wouldn't exactly put it like that —"</p><p class="p1">"Sweetie, if I was making I move, believe me, <em>you'd know</em>."</p><p class="p1">"Good for you, then," she said, sliding her laptop back into the tote back, and rose to leave.</p><p class="p1">But the green-eyed Tony Stark wouldn't have it.</p><p class="p1">"Come on, Marls, don't be like that."</p><p class="p1">She looked at him like he was loony. Which was most likely the case, "I barely know you, dude. In fact, I don't know you at all. Why am I keep talking to you?" she wondered out loud and reached for her headphones again.</p><p class="p1">"Because of my undeniable charm and the fact that you owe me your entire existence?"</p><p class="p1">She gawked at him, headphones forgotten, "<em>Excuse me?</em>"</p><p class="p1">"My name is Gabriel, archangel of my dad. I banged your great grandmother two thousand years ago. <em>Prepare to die,</em>" he added in a sultry accent. Marlene just kept staring, at a complete loss. Gabriel smiled again, "Kidding, not gonna kill you. Just sit down, will you?"</p><p class="p1">Finally out of her stupor, Marlene breathed an incredulous laugh, "Yeah, <em>no,"</em> she adjusted the tote strap on her shoulder and stood up again, "Great knowing ya, Gabriel, archangel of your dad." With that, she walked off, leaving the wannabe predator alone. The bells tinkled when Marlene opened the door and...</p><p class="p1">Stepped into a coffeeshop. One that definitely wasn't the cozy "Sailor" in New-Haven. No, "Sailor" was all about boats and rivers, this...There was a big, orange couch in the middle of the place, a coffee table and a green armchair, and an eerily familiar rug. It was like she stepped inside...</p><p class="p1">Marlene whipped around to look at the door, and there it was right on the window: two enormous cups of hot coffee and the sign that said "Central Perk". The coffeeshop was filled with the same faces Marley'd seen back in "Sailor", and there was the friendly barista she was sometimes rude to but tipped her well because she felt guilty.</p><p class="p1">"What the fuck?" Marlene whispered. Her bewildered remark was met with laughter. Marley looked around, up and down, left and right — where had it come from? Who was laughing? "Hey — " More laughter. She glared at the ceiling, "I didn't even say anything!" Laughter.</p><p class="p1">"<em>Now</em> will you sit down?"</p><p class="p1">Marley's burning glare flashed to the famous orange couch. But instead of Rachel, Monica and Ross she found the weird smiley dude eating a chocolate cake. He looked like he had been waiting here awhile before she realised what was happening.</p><p class="p1">"What the hell is happening?" Marlene demanded. Yes, she hadn't figured that out yet.</p><p class="p1">Gabriel grinned smugly, "Knew you'd like it. Thought the show was pretty meh myself, but check out that couch," he padded the soft velvet, asking her to sit down. When Marley hesitated, Gabriel gave her a 'come on, it's <em>that</em> couch' look, and she caved. It <em>was</em> pretty comfortable, "I did a pretty good job."</p><p class="p1">"At what?" Marlene asked. She'd run out of reasonable questions.</p><p class="p1">The invisible audience laughed again. Marley fumed silently.</p><p class="p1">"At making this whole thing happen, of course," Gabriel spread his arms proudly and send a huge piece of the cake into his mouth, "<em>Now</em>, to the topic. What's up with you today? Happy birthday, by the way."</p><p class="p1">Marley just sat there, speechless. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then took another look around to make sure it was actually happening. When she glanced at Gabriel, he gave her a reassuring, if not a bit patronising smile as if to say, "Yeah, take your time." Again, the annoying laughter.</p><p class="p1">"You...made this?" Marlene finally asked, gesturing at the entire coffeeshop.</p><p class="p1">Gabriel nodded, "I know. Impressive, right?"</p><p class="p1">"<em>How?</em>"</p><p class="p1">"I've told you, I'm an archangel," he replied casually and licked off some chocolate frosting off his pinky. The audience laughed. <em>Again</em>, "Don't you just love it when they do that?"</p><p class="p1">Marley narrowed her eyes at him, "No, you egomaniac. Turn it <em>off</em>."</p><p class="p1">"My, my, aren't you capricious," Gabriel muttered, throwing her a scandalised look. The audience began to laugh at the joke, but was quickly silenced by a mere snap of his fingers, "Happy now?"</p><p class="p1">"<em>No,</em>" Marley snapped at him, even more mystified after that trick.</p><p class="p1">The archangel sighed in dramatic defeat, "Oh, well. Can't say I care. That thing I just did there? Bet it wasn't the strangest crap you've seen today." Marley visibly tensed at his words, a shadow of worry falling over her face. "What did you see?"</p><p class="p1">"I...h-how did you know that?" Marlene mumbled. A second later her eyes widened at the sudden realisation, "Was it you? Did <em>you</em> do it?"</p><p class="p1">"Listen, I do a lot of things," Gabriel said in a bored voice, "you gotta be more specific."</p><p class="p1">"Those...those things. W-with burning skin, and horns, and fangs, and eyes...those black, pitch-black eyes..." Marlene rambled on, petrified even thinking about it.</p><p class="p1">"Ah, <em>that</em>," the archangel nodded in understanding, lips pursed, "Yeah, no, that wasn't me. That was my brother."</p><p class="p1">"Your...your brother?" Marley repeated dumbly.</p><p class="p1">"Yeah, you guys know him," Gabriel devoured a particularly loaded piece of cake, "The great, big bully," he said with a full mouth. Marlene watched him with a mix of wonder and revulsion, and maybe a bit of envy. She had been craving chocolate all day, "Lucifer."</p><p class="p1">"L-Lucifer?" Marley asked, hoping that she hadn't heard it right, "As in the Devil? Satan? The original bad guy? The — "</p><p class="p1">Gabriel rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that one."</p><p class="p1">"So...the things I saw..." Marley trailed off.</p><p class="p1">"Demons."</p><p class="p1">"Demons?"</p><p class="p1">"Demons."</p><p class="p1">"Like actual...?"</p><p class="p1">Gabriel nodded, "Demons."</p><p class="p1">"As in..."</p><p class="p1">"Freaking demons."</p><p class="p1">Marlene stayed quiet for a moment while Gabriel ate the last of his chocolate cake. She was desperately trying to process that information but but found herself lacking the tools to do it. How did one even come to understand it let alone accept the fact that demons and, apparently, angels walked the earth? It wasn't fair, Marley thought. Her father spent three years assuring her that Santa wasn't real and now she had to come to terms with <em>this</em>? Her belief system was majorly screwed.</p><p class="p1">"Why can I see them and others can't? Why <em>now</em>?"</p><p class="p1">"All of those are great questions. But I can't answer them," Gabriel said, licking the last of the frosting from the spoon.</p><p class="p1">Marlene stared at him, confused and disheartened, "What?"</p><p class="p1">"I mean, I certainly could, I'm an <em>archangel</em>. But where's the fun in that, am I right? You know what <em>would</em> be fun though?" He quirked a mischievous brow, "If you asked your dad. Now <em>that</em> would be a riot."</p><p class="p1">"What does my father have to do with it?"</p><p class="p1">"Oh, where do I <em>start</em>? But don't be sad, Marls, fathers suck," he stressed the last word by pointing the spoon at her, "It's what they do."</p><p class="p1">"You're crazy," Marlene stood up from the legendary couch. That was her stop: the freaking wit's end, "I want to go. Take me back."</p><p class="p1">"Oh, I'll return you to that hipster dump," Gabriel huffed, "Just ask your daddy what happened on September 23, 1986. And if you see one of my bro's stormtroopers, do yourself a favour and run."</p><p class="p1">She didn't recognise the date at all. But before Marlene could ask what it meant, she was back in "Sailor'a" and Gabriel — nowhere to be seen.</p><hr/><p class="p1">Murkiness began to settle over suburban New-Haven as Marlene finally arrived at her apartment building. She would usually ride to campus on a bike, but hers had been stolen a week ago, and she was too lazy to go buy a new one. Well, that sure bit her in the ass. Now, Marlene felt like an idiot. A scared, confused, miserable idiot who hadn't eaten anything all day.</p><p class="p1">She trudged up the stairs to her apartment on the third floor and opened the door — Marley knew Tessa was home, and despite telling her to lock the door, Marley also knew that Tessa never listened. She walked in, only a martyred sigh to signal her arrival, and dropped her bag in the hallway. She needed food. Was that how zombies felt when they smelled human flesh? Now she felt like a hypocrite.</p><p class="p1">Marley walked into the kitchen and took out a pack of pop tarts from the lower shelf, because <em>nutrients</em> and quickly dropped them into the toaster. She heard the shower running, which explained the quiet: had Tessa been here, she would've talked Marley's ear off about her daily escapades. Honestly, that girl lived in a CW teen drama that was just on the verge of being cancelled if not for that one plot twist.</p><p class="p1">The water stopped running. Marlene put on a pot to make some green tea, "Hey, tea or coffee?" She yelled.</p><p class="p1">"Wine!" Tessa yelled back.</p><p class="p1">Marley rolled her eyes but still took out a bottle of white they had in the fridge and grabbed two glassed from the cupboard. What was that saying? "It is only alcoholism if you're drinking alone"? Whatever the saying was, Marlene was in dire need of a drink. Only one, though. Today's fiasco could never be repeated.</p><p class="p1">Sitting at her small kitchen table now and waiting for her poptarts, Marlene was able to fully appreciate the weirdness of that day. It seemed surreal to her now: those faces, the whispers in her head, the Damon Salvatore wannabe in "Sailor's"? It was so easy to tell herself that none of it was real now that Marlene was back in the warm embrace of normalcy.</p><p class="p1">Only she was pretty sure she hadn't dreamed any of it.</p><p class="p1">"Maddock was pissed at you," Marlene heard Tessa say as the blonde was no doubt checking herself out in the mirror in the living room.</p><p class="p1">Marley winced and took out her phone. A gazzillion messages from "Maddy", "Shit, I forgot to call him back."</p><p class="p1">"This goes on your permanent record," Tessa joked, her voice getting closer.</p><p class="p1">Marley snorted at one of his texts, "Get this," she tells Tess, "<em>Fuck you for ignoring me. Also, the chick I banged in Cabo over the spring break is in my class. Wtf, she told me she was a junior in USC," </em>Marlene all but cackled at her poor philandering friend's misfortune. Karma worked in mysterious ways, indeed.</p><p class="p1">"He'll never give up his sugar daddy dream, is he?" Tessa sighed, walking into the kitchen.</p><p class="p1">Marlene texted Maddock back with a bunch of over-the-top and absolutely unnecessary emojis (she loved to do that), a stupidly happy smile on her face, "He's more likely to find <em>himself</em> a sugar da — " Marley looked up at her roommate.</p><p class="p1">Tess was pouring herself a glass of wine, a towel wrapped around her head, wearing a cute pink pj set Marlene had got her for Chrismakkuh. But that wasn't what sent Marley into absolute stupor. It was her eyes. They weren't black. No, they were white, glazed over like milk glass. And her face...that wasn't the face of her best friend, her confidant, her <em>sister</em>. Marlene couldn't bear looking at her. How long had she been...that thing? How long had she pretended to be her friend?</p><p class="p1">"You okay?" Tessa asked.</p><p class="p1"><em>And if you see one of my bro's stormtroopers, do yourself a favour and run</em>.</p><p class="p1">"Hey," Tess sat down next to Marley and handed her a glass of wine, "Drink some to wash away all that weirdness."</p><p class="p1">Marlene tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. Her heart was about to jump out of her chest —what had Gabriel meant? Surely, Tessa would never hurt her?</p><p class="p1">"So what's up with you today? Did you like my note? Honestly, didn't think you'd make it. You were <em>so</em> out of it yesterday," Tessa said, snacking on some leftover candy. They had that weird penis-shaped ball Maddock had brought from Greece. Everyone agreed it was beyond strange, and yet Marlene and Tessa had decided make a centrepiece and fill it with all kinds of junk food.</p><p class="p1">"Y-yeah, that was pretty...crazy."</p><p class="p1">"And you kissed Eddy."</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Did you know he was a monster, Tessa? Like you?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Marley stood up, barely able to keep her legs from shaking, and strolled up to the toaster, feigning great concern over the wellbeing of her poptarts.</p><p class="p1">"I know why you can't look at me," Tessa spoke behind her. Her voice was somehow different, though. Deeper, cockier, more malicious, "Come on, Marlene, turn around. Don't you want to <em>gossip</em>? Have some wine, talk some...shit? Is that how you say it?" her laughter was drained with contempt and superiority. There wasn't a thing left of Tessa in there. Of the girl who snorted out Cheerios when Maddock was telling one of his lewd stories, the girl who always demanded hot fries at McDonald's when they served them soggy, the girl who liked her cheese pizza with marshmallow on top.</p><p class="p1">Marlene turned to face her. She didn't know what the monster inside Tessa had done, but suddenly the thing in front of her looked like her friend again. Round hazel eyes, a nose that was longer than Tessa would've liked with a splatter of freckles from their tanning sprees in the park.</p><p class="p1">"What's wrong, Marls?" It even sounded like her again, "Come on, don't stare at me like that. Is it my nose? Uh, I swear, someday I'll be so desperate for a nose job I'll ask Maddock to be my sugar daddy. Mark my words."</p><p class="p1">Marlene's eyes welled up with tears. They were slowly rolling down her cheeks as she stared at Tessa's bright, guileless face. Could it still be her? <em>You've seen its real face. Don't let it fool you</em>.</p><p class="p1"><em>"Do yourself a favour and run"</em>.</p><p class="p1">"You're not Tessa," Marlene gritted on, hand curling around the toaster.</p><p class="p1">"Oh my," the creature gasped in mock surprise, "However could you tell?" It rose from the table and slithered up to Marley, graceful and lithe, "How delicious you are, little girl. Tell me, what should I do to you?"</p><p class="p1">"How about tell me what the hell you want?" Marlene managed to stammer out, leaning back against the counter the closer "Tessa" came.</p><p class="p1">"No, that's no fun. He <em>told</em> me I could have my fun," the creature whispered and brought its hand to her face. Marley shuddered from disgust, "Oh, how I'd love to peel off this beautiful skin and then torture every single one of those nerves until you're in so much pain, your heart simply...<em>stops</em>. And then," she leaned even closer. Marlene tightened her grip on the toaster, "I'd rip it out of your ribcage...and devour it."</p><p class="p1">"Yeah?" Marlene breathed out, "Well, if you're so hungry," she looked straight into her friend's soulless eyes, "Why don't you have some pop tarts, you bitch."</p><p class="p1">She gripped the toaster and with every single shred of power she had in her ridiculously untoned muscles punched "Tessa" in the face, sending her reeling. Marlene supposed it was more the element of surprise rather than her staggering newfound strength, but it wasn't the time to make guesses. While the creature was still down, Marlene ran out of the kitchen, grabbed her bag that she had thankfully left in the hallway and stormed out of the apartment.</p><p class="p1">She was close to falling down the stairs a couple of times, but the fear of what might be chasing her gave her a suddenly decent sense of coordination. Marlene ran and didn't look back once, afraid that even a second's hesitation would end in her heart eaten by the white-eyed...demon. <em>Demon</em>.</p><p class="p1">She hurried towards the parking lot, fumbling for the car keys in her bag. Good thing she was always too forgetful and lazy to take them out. The shabby red Toyota bleeped in greeting, and Marlene quickly hopped into the driver's seat, stuck the key into the ignition switch and prayed to all Gods who would listen for the car to start.</p><p class="p1">Marley had always considered herself an agnostic of sorts, but when she heard the glorious purr of the engine, it was like Santa was real all over again. She sped off the parking lot and away from the apartment building.</p><p class="p1">Marlene could swear she saw a blur of pink in the rearview mirror.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pater Familias</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>Seven Devils</b>
</p><p class="p1">Chapter 2 / Pater Familias </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Cambridge, Massachusetts </b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene drove for hours, eyes bleary and tired, heart still pounding in her chest — adrenalin was the only force keeping her awake. Three hours with no music or a fellow traveller to keep her company, that was by far the most depressing ride Marley'd ever had. So for the lack of anything better to do, she busied herself with overthinking every single thing that had happened. Over and over again, until her head started to hurt, and the whispering resumed. It came and went like ocean waves, but felt more like a freaking tsunami.</p><p class="p1">Marlene wasn't sure where she was driving, exactly. All she knew was that it had to be away from campus, away from the entire state of Connecticut, away from Tessa, and Maddock, and everything she'd known. It wasn't until she saw the "Entering Cambridge" sign that she realised where she'd come. Why <em>had</em> she come here, though?</p><p class="p1">Because she was selfish. Because she was spoiled. Because she called her father with any minor inconvenience waiting to be coddled and pampered. But this was not your usual millennial meltdown. How the hell could her father help with <em>that</em>? Marley couldn't involve him in this. What if that thing had been following her from New-Haven?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Just ask your daddy what happened on September 23, 1986.</em>
</p><p class="p1">And thus Marlene found herself in the parkway of the old colonial house, glancing up at the lit up window of her father's study. He was probably doing research for his new book on comparative theology or writing a speech for the conference he was going to attend in Prague next month. Just doing what he did best, completely oblivious to the shitshow that had been Marlene's day. And to the fact that she was going to drag him into it in a matter of minutes.</p><p class="p1">Marlene got out of her inconspicuous Tayota, her cheeks hot and heart racing. Shutting the door, she looked up at the two-storey massive of brick and stone and felt her breath hitch in her throat. The entire facade of the house was covered in glowing symbols in a language Marley couldn't recognise. She was definitely going mad. <em>That</em> or her father had decided to put Halloween decorations a little earlier.</p><p class="p1">"Freaking lunatic," she muttered, walking up to the porch, the spare she had for emergencies in hand.</p><p class="p1">Marlene felt an instant prickle of tears as soon as she opened the door.</p><p class="p1">After everything that happened, her childhood house felt so warm and welcoming, she could cry from the simple sense of security. The faint smell of coffee her father always made in an old Armenian jezve he had got from his grandmother, Armenian memorabilia and antiquities displayed on the cream-coloured walls and behind the glass doors of impressive cabinets. Everything in that house spoke history and art, laced with culture from all around the world and together made the two-storey construction a true home.</p><p class="p1">Marley walked up the stairs. The fifth one was still creaking, which made her smile — Arthur was many things, but a handyman wasn't one of them. The door to his study was ajar, soft light pouring out into the narrow carpeted corridor. Through the slit, Marlene could see him hunched at the table of dark wood, a somber look on his face and a pen in hand. He was probably grading essays, only...only he wasn't alone.</p><p class="p1">"I assume our agreement still stands?" a man asked in a silky voice that bore a dissonant note of something unsettling. Something predatory.</p><p class="p1">Marlene took a small step back, eyes still trained on the stranger. Could he be one of the professors from Harvard? She didn't recognise him though: tall, on the bald side, clad in an expensive-looking black suit and a shiny tie. Perhaps, he was a fellow researcher — the likelihood of that was very high, seeing as those were the only sort Arthur had time to converse with. But something in the man seemed off. Marlene had seen enough academia extraordinaires in her life to know that whoever the late-night guest was, it was very far from the realm of education.</p><p class="p1">"...some time," she heard her father reply in a hushed voice. </p><p class="p1">The stranger let out a low, malicious chuckle, "Time is all you have, my friend. Just make sure not to waste it." Marlene frowned at the sheer patronisation in his voice. How dare this pompous prick speak to her father like this?</p><p class="p1">Her hand was reaching for the door-handle, ready to storm in and show the bastard where the sun don't shine, when Arthur spoke again, "When will Lilith die?"</p><p class="p1">What? Who's —</p><p class="p1">"Don't you worry about it. Castiel's got it all covered," the stranger said, "You do your part, we do ours. It is all God's plan, Arthur. The lives of thousands for the lives of millions — don't you think it's a fair price to pay for Heaven on Earth?"</p><p class="p1">Marlene frowned, confused by the stranger's words. What was he talking about? Was her father involved in a freaking cult or something? But he stayed silent, almost doubtful.</p><p class="p1">The man didn't like it. As though sensing Arthur's hesitation, he pressed further, "Or should I remind you what's at stake here?"</p><p class="p1">"No," Marley heard her father reply, "I remember."</p><p class="p1">"Well, then," the stranger said in a seekingly cheerful manner, "I'll be in touch once the bitch is dead. Let us hope <em>you'll</em> keep your end of the bargain, yes?"</p><p class="p1">Marlene wasn't quite sure what happened next. Perhaps, she had hallucinated the whole thing. Perhaps, this entire day had been one long acid trip. But she could swear that the suit-clad bastard had vanished into thin air.</p><p class="p1">Just like...</p><p class="p1">The damned floor creaked when Marley took a step away from her father's study. "Fuck," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, frozen in anticipation of what would inevitably happen.</p><p class="p1">"Sona?" Arthur called, voice tense with worry. Sona was their housekeeper, who would come a couple of days a week to keep the whole place tidy. The old woman never missed a chance to grumble about how much dust those "little trinkets of his" collected.</p><p class="p1">"Uh, no," Marlene all but muttered, appearing in the doorway. Arthur seemed at a loss, startled by the unceremonious entrance of the daughter who should've been miles away at college. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, "Hey, dad."</p><p class="p1">Marley was right — he <em>had</em> been grading essays. Before that bald Man in Black arrived. God, what a day.</p><p class="p1">"What's wrong?" he asked, taking off his reading glasses. Arthur's voice was tense with concern and apprehension. Was he worried she had heard what they were saying? "Did something happen? Marlene, why — "</p><p class="p1">"September 23, 1986," Marlene cut him off. She was tired, and she was scared, and her voice was shaking. She didn't care if that mysterious angel was freaking unicorn escort — she needed answers, "Does this date mean anything to you?"</p><p class="p1">Marley hoped he would say no, because she wanted things to be normal again. Yet deep down she begged for him to say yes if only to know she wasn't going crazy. That maybe, just maybe, Gabriel was right and there was an explanation to everything that had happened today.</p><p class="p1">"Marlene, this isn't the place — "</p><p class="p1">"Dad," she begged, "Just...just tell me. Please."</p><p class="p1">Arthur gave her a long, pensive look, his dark brown eyes filled with sadness, "Would you sit down?"</p><p class="p1">Marley shook her head frantically, "N-no, I can't" she told him and started to pace the room. There were all those interesting books to look at and paintings Arthur had brought from his travels. So many things to distract her.</p><p class="p1">"Today...what happened today, Marlene?"</p><p class="p1">Her eyes flashed to meet her father's, brows twitched together, "How did you know?"</p><p class="p1">Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in deep concentration, "Because I've met others like you. And I wish I could've —"</p><p class="p1">"Others...like me?" Marlene repeated dumbly, "Like me how? <em>Linguists</em>?"</p><p class="p1">"You asked me about September 23, 1986. And I...do recognise the date, Marlene," Arthur's began with much hesitation. He always called her by her full name, which irritated Marley to no end. She thought "Marlene" made her sound like an Old Hollywood starlet on her way to seduce Clarke Gable. "There are things in this world that...that are invisible to our eye. Right until the moment they wish to be seen."</p><p class="p1">"Dad," Marlene sighed in mild annoyance. Did he have to be so dramatic all the time? With his greying beard, a vest suit and a silver tongue, Arthur was a regular Houdini, "I'm not one of your students, and you're no Po. Less cryptic, prego?"</p><p class="p1">Arthur gave her a most foreboding look, "The hell is empty, and all the Devils are here."</p><p class="p1">"Right," Marlene deadpanned, "Now you're just showing off."</p><p class="p1">"Haven't it ever occurred to you that Shakespear didn't mean it as a metaphor?"</p><p class="p1">"Not after four years of undergrad English Literature it hasn't. Dad, I didn't drive three hours to talk Shakespear to you. I think I'm having hallucinations from all the caffeine I consumed yesterday, my professor is f-freaking Hellboy, my roommate...oh God, Tess —," Marlene shivered, remembering the white of her friend's eyes. She thought she saw her father look away, "I-I've been to Central Perk and that couch is not half as comfortable as I thought, and what the <em>hell</em> were those signs on our house and..." <em>Who was that man and what was he talking about, dad? </em>"<em>What</em> happened on September 23, 1986, dad?" Marlene asked, out of breath from all the nervous rambling.</p><p class="p1">"No mention of me? I'll take it personally, thanks," Gabriel popped up in the middle of the study. Marlene shrieked in surprise, not yet accustomed to people appearing out of thin air. She gaped at her father, "Why the hell aren't you freaked out by this?"</p><p class="p1">Not only did he not appear freaked out, Arthur seemed only mildly vexed as though one of his students was late to turn in their paper. Although Marlene suspected her father was all too well-acquainted with their lot. As in <em>angels</em>, seeing as she was almost absolutely sure that the walking and talking suit who had been here earlier was one of them. "Gabriel, I told you I would handle this."</p><p class="p1">"Handle <em>what</em>, exactly?"</p><p class="p1">"Clearly, you failed," Gabriel dismissed her father and turned to Marley. The look of complete astonishment on her face drew a despondent sigh out of him, "I hoped it would be fun, but this whole thing is really rather dreadful. You two are equally boring. By the way," he said to Arthur, "Props for all the angel words, doc. A real nice touch."</p><p class="p1">Marlene glared at her father, "You <em>know</em> him?"</p><p class="p1">"It is all quite complicated —"</p><p class="p1">"Sure it is, you know angel — <em>an</em> angel," she checked herself just in time. Marley didn't want her father to know she had been eavesdropping. Also, the whole deal seemed kind of shady, and she wanted to know more before throwing an entire intervention. </p><p class="p1">"<em>Arch</em>angel," Gabriel corrected importantly. Marlene threw him a sideways glare, "It's kind of a big deal up there, so..." </p><p class="p1">"Marlene," Arthur implored her to listen, "He's telling the truth." Gabriel gave Marley a smug 'said so' look. She ignored him. "Our bloodline, the Ter-Gabrielyan bloodline, can be traced back to the one who started it almost two thousand years ago....The son of Gabriel."</p><p class="p1">"Wh — " <em>"I banged your great grandmother two thousand years ago". </em>Marley's eyes went wide as she turned to the wretched angel, "I thought you were kidding!"</p><p class="p1">"Surprise, I guess?"</p><p class="p1">"So what does it make us?" she asked.</p><p class="p1">"Nothing," Arthur told her, "it makes us nothing. We're human — "</p><p class="p1">"Speak for yourself," Gabriel butted in and pointed at Marlene, "<em>She's</em> a different kind of cookie."</p><p class="p1">She frowned in confusion, "What do you mean?"</p><p class="p1">"The year was 1986," Gabriel began in a low, mysterious tone, albeit a little bored, "On the dreary night of September 23, a boring family of two was peacefully asleep in their bland, suburban house. Nothing alerted danger, <em>yet </em>— " he looked at Arthur and then at Marlene, building suspense, "<em>yet</em> under the guise of twilight, a demon by the name of Azazel came to pay a friendly visit to their humble abode."</p><p class="p1">Marley opened her mouth to put in her five sceptical cents, but Gabriel held up a finger to shut her up. She did so, her glare deadly, "He didn't bring any presents though, <em>rude</em>. Figures," the angel muttered to himself, "Anyways, while daddio was off bumping booties in the dreamland, Az swanned into your room and — well, he <em>did</em> bring a present, now that I think about it," Gabriel said thoughtfully and then continued, louder, all cheer and misplaced excitement, "He fed you his blood. Drop, droppity-drop — <em>puff!</em> You're it."</p><p class="p1">The silence that followed was cricket-worthy. Marlene's jaw slacked at the sheer improbability of those words being spoken to her by an archangel who, what, was her entire family's founding father? And he just stood there, arms crossed in a way that was effortlessly arrogant and impatient, looking so unangel-y in his jeans and a leather jacket — he was more Danny Zuko than Archangel Gabriel, son of the Lord. And then there was her father, a man with three PhDs and a hundred of published works on why exactly what's happening couldn't be real.</p><p class="p1">"You know what, I've probably had some LSD. Who knows what they put in your coffee these days, right?" a sweet, nervous smile stretched across Marlene's face. She finger-gunned at them and started to retreat to the door, "So, I'm just gonna go and sleep it off, yeah? Sorry for bothering you, dad," she told Arthur, then glanced at Gabriel, who was, indeed, still there. Marley blinked, then rubbed her eyes and blinked again, this time to get rid of the black dots. No luck. She groaned, "Oh, come <em>on</em>."</p><p class="p1">"Marlene, this is not a laughing matter," her father implored.</p><p class="p1">Gabriel nodded in agreement, "What he said."</p><p class="p1">"Does it look like I'm laughing?"</p><p class="p1">"Is that a rhetorical question?"</p><p class="p1">"For God's sake —"</p><p class="p1">Gabriel made a face, "Yeah, about <em>that</em>..."</p><p class="p1">"Where're your wings then, huh?" Marlene thought she really did something there, coming up with a winning argument. She cocked an expectant brow at him.</p><p class="p1">Gabriel sighed in annoyance. He snapped his fingers, and a bright, heavenly brilliance spilled inside the dimly lit study. Marlene gasped, gawking at the silhouette of the angel's celestial form...and then it was gone. Gabriel snapped his fingers again and turned it off like a freaking lamp.</p><p class="p1">"Oh, God," she whispered, then looked at her father, "Holy — did you see it? The...that...those..."</p><p class="p1">"Of course he didn't," Gabriel scoffed, adjusting his leather jacket, "He's just a human."</p><p class="p1">Marlene's brows furrowed, "But <em>I'm</em> just a human —"</p><p class="p1">"Oh my <em>dad</em>, how daft are you?"</p><p class="p1">"Excuse me?"</p><p class="p1">"Marlene," the voice of reason that was her father cut in. He was sitting at his desk, grim and quiet, his dark brown eyes filled with pain and regret, "That night...something happened to you. The demon blood in someone of your...<em>heritage</em>, it must've triggered something."</p><p class="p1">"Like what?" Marlene looked between her father and Gabriel.</p><p class="p1">Arthur rose from his chair, "Let me show you something."</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>A moment later </b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">"Well, that's not creepy at all," Gabriel commented as they stepped inside an adjacent room of Arthur's study. The room Marlene had never seen in all the 18 years she'd lived in this house. It looked like a glorified cupboard, which fit a small table, a chair and had four walls which were all covered in pictures, maps, newspaper articles, stickers and strange sigils.</p><p class="p1">"Is this the part where you tell me to enthral you with my acumen?" said Marlene, having a careful look around.</p><p class="p1">Arthur grabbed a thick folder from the clattered desk, "Ever since that night in 1986, I've been trying to figure out what happened. Gabriel..." at the mention of his name, the archangel waved at Marley. Arthur sighed, "He provided me with the information I needed. Something to...to give me an idea, a starting point to this," he gestured at the wall.</p><p class="p1">"Just like that?" Marlene asked and snapped her cunning hazel eyes to the angel, "Why do you care, anyway? It's been two thousand years, no one's asking for alimony. You've been off the hook for millennia."</p><p class="p1">Gabriel's face assumed a more somber look, "I've made a promise," he said without a trace of mirth, "and I don't break them."</p><p class="p1">Unsettled by the turn the conversation had suddenly taken and feeling a bit guilty for being rude to him, Marley cleared her throat and switched her attention to the Nancy Drew-worty investigation of her father's. She stepped closer to one of the walls to take a good look at the pictures. They were all young people, around her age, some older, some a little younger. Their photos were pinned next to newspaper articles, obituaries, candid photographs. What had her father been up to?</p><p class="p1">"Who are these people?"</p><p class="p1">"Your little bros and sisters," Gabriel supplied very unhelpfully. Arthur glared at him. Marlene looked scandalised.</p><p class="p1">"They were targeted by the demon," he hurried to explain and then added, voice soaked with bitter regret, "Like you."</p><p class="p1">"How did he choose them, then? Why did he choose <em>me</em>?"</p><p class="p1">"Cause you've angel blood coursing through your veins, dummy," Gabriel said, "Azazel was one of my brother's first toys, his lil' pup. <em>Very</em> loyal. And Lucifer did always loath that big ol' dad didn't punish me for what <em>I</em> did. But what did I do, really? Is love a crime?" Arthur gave him a look as if to say that love had nothing to do with what had transpired, "Bottom line is, I loved humans. <em>Maaaybe</em> a tad too much, but hey — can you blame me? Nope. And Lucy hated them and despised me for loving them. And you are, essentially, the product of that love."</p><p class="p1">"Lucy?" Marley repeated, shellshocked, "Lucy is the girl next door with pig tails who charges five dollars for her shitty lemonade. Lucifer — oh, hell, well of course he's real," a nervous little laugh fell from her chapped lips. It was a nasty habit, biting them until she tasted blood, "The Devil is real. Yes, that makes perfect sense. And he sends his cronies to turn normal people into monsters, great. What's next, destroying the seven kingdoms?"</p><p class="p1">"How about the entire world?" Gabriel dropped the bomb with perfect nonchalance.</p><p class="p1">Marlene's breathing quickened, her brain going into panic mode again, "W-what?"</p><p class="p1">"But this is not going to happen," Arthur reassured her, giving Gabriel a reproachful look, "Because Lucifer won't come back."</p><p class="p1">"Fom where?"</p><p class="p1">"From the deepest pits of Hell, of course," Gabriel replied, "I hear it's great down there this time of year, very hot. And he's got an entire cage all to himself."</p><p class="p1">"And that...that demon, who turned all the children — Azazel — wants to set him free?"</p><p class="p1">"He <em>did</em>," the angel said, "Before the Winchesters killed him."</p><p class="p1">"The what now?"</p><p class="p1">Arthur opened yet another file, containing all records on the two brothers. He pointed to their mugshots on the wall near an impressive amount of scandalous newspaper headlines, "Sam and Dean Winchester, 26 and 30. I knew their father John back in the day, they're solid hunters. One of the best, some say."</p><p class="p1">"And criminals? FBI's most wanted," Marley made an attempt at a whistle, "That's impressive."</p><p class="p1">"Yeah, they don't suck at this, I guess," Gabriel admitted.</p><p class="p1">"You mean killing demons?"</p><p class="p1">"<em>Including</em> demons, sweet pea." </p><p class="p1">She shot her father an astonished look. Arthur let out a heavy sigh for the hundredth time this evening, "There is a lot you don't yet know, Marlene."</p><p class="p1">"Vampires?" He gave a reluctant nod. Marley had to say, she was starting to feel kind of excited, "Werwolves?" Another nod, "Ghosts? Fai —"</p><p class="p1">"All the things that go bump in the night, yes," Gabriel said loudly, already over this conversation, "<em>Anywho</em>, Mario Bros killed the bad guy, but crapped all over the Mushroom Kingdom. Especially the beanpole wonder," he pointed at the picture of the younger brother, Sam.</p><p class="p1">"What did he do?"</p><p class="p1">"He is like you, Marlene," Arthur explained, "Gifted."</p><p class="p1">Marlene's face crumpled with absolute confusion, "Wait, hold on a second, now I'm <em>gifted? </em>Come on, it's demon blood not fairy dust"</p><p class="p1">"Yeah, well then how did you see those demons?" Gabriel said matter-of-factly, arms crossed, "Not everyone is unfortunate enough to see their ugly muzzles. And I just bet you can catch the holy radio station." </p><p class="p1">"Sorry?"</p><p class="p1">"Angels whispering in your ear? That noise that makes you wanna off yourself? Gossiping broads the lot of them, I swear to dad," Gabriel muttered shaking his head, "When Azazel gave you his blood, the very little angel in you had decided to fight the poison, capisce? I'm kind of guessing you were his personal pet project. He knew exactly who you were and wanted to see what happens. Impress his daddy. That <em>runs in the family</em>," he added with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.</p><p class="p1">"But..." Marlene was struggling to find the words amid the chaotic whirl of thoughts in her head, "Why wait all those years? Why twenty two? What's so <em>special</em> about twenty two?"</p><p class="p1">"Demons have a very perverse sense of humour," said Arthur. He walked to the desk and picked up an old, weighty tome, "I couldn't figure it out for a very long time, not until there was talk of the Apocalypse." It was the book of Revelations. The apocalyptic book of Revelations. Arthur looked at Gabriel, then Marlene, "It has twenty two chapters. It was Azazel's plan all along."</p><p class="p1">"That's...disturbingly poetic," she said and then added more brightly, "But that's it, right? The demon's dead, the world is saved?" Her enthusiasm was met with silence.</p><p class="p1">Gabriel pursed his lips in a highly dramatic manner, "Soooo...are you gonna tell her or should I?" he raised his brows at Arthur.</p><p class="p1">"I...I am afraid it's not that simple, Marlene," said her father in a grave, foreboding voice, "Lucifer has many followers, <em>loyal</em> followers — "</p><p class="p1">"<em>Psychotic</em> followers," Gabriel chimed in, "Firstborns always come out ass first, don't they? Long story short — look, I don't have all night, there are perfectly delicious porn stars waiting for some magic to happen in my hotel room — Lucy's prodigy child Lilith is doing her daddy's bidding by breaking 66 seals of apocalypse," Marlene's eyes flashed to her father. "<em>When will Lilith die?</em>" Arthur had asked the stranger. She wondered if Gabriel knew about their 'arrangement' as the man had put it. "She's on number 59 at the moment, and when she hits 66..." Gabriel trailed off.</p><p class="p1">"<em>Go your ways, and pour out the vials of the wrath of God upon the earth,</em>" Marlene cited the passage from the book of Revelations, "The Apocalypse."</p><p class="p1"><em>"The lives of thousands for the lives of millions — don't you think it's a fair price to pay for Heaven on Earth?" </em>Marlene shuddered, remembering the velvet sharpness of the man's voice. Was that what he'd meant? The...Apocalypse? But the way he had spoken about it...Arthur caught Marlene watching him, a strange expression on his weary face. She quickly looked away, turning her attention to Gabriel. These thoughts unsettled her.</p><p class="p1">"And Lucy goes free to wrack havoc on all humanity," said Gabriel. He looked at the clock, "Oh my, the hour is late. Gotta go, see ya."</p><p class="p1">Marlene frowned, "Wait — " but he had already disappeared, "<em>God</em>, this is annoying."</p><p class="p1">"Yes," Arthur smiled, "it certainly can be.</p><p class="p1">Marley flashed him a narrowed-eye look, suspicious. "Aren't you two chummy," she said watching her father sort some papers on the table, "Forgive my curiosity, dad, I'm just wondering why would an <em>archangel</em> need <em>your</em> help."</p><p class="p1">"I have three PhDs," Arthur retorted, offended.</p><p class="p1">"And that's great, but don't you think this is a little above your pay grade? I mean, angels? Demons? <em>the Devil?</em> The freaking <em>Apocalypse?</em></p><p class="p1">Arthur sighed, put away the papers and looked at his distressed daughter, "Marlene, my whole life I've been trying to make sense of who I was. All I knew was that I had a legacy — at least, that's what my father'd always told me. Ter-Gabrielyan men were servants of God, and he wanted me to follow the same path. I didn't." he raked a hand through his salt and pepper hair, "We hadn't talked for years. He'd refused to come to my wedding. And died the day after."</p><p class="p1">Marlene knew of the strained relationship between her father and her grandfather Felix. She had only seen pictures and heard stories of him being slightly unhinged. Paranoid. Knowing what she knew know, she supposed he had the reason for it.</p><p class="p1">"My grandmother Matilda said that our family was cursed. That we had no place in Heaven, nor in Hell, bound to hide in the shadows for the fear of God's wrath. I thought she was delusional," Arthur said and huffed out a cynical laugh, "I thought my father was crazy. Until I found his journals. Until...that night 22 years ago."</p><p class="p1">"So great Tata was right? We're...<em>cursed</em>?"</p><p class="p1">"When Gabriel sired a Nephilim, his brothers scoured all of the earth to find him. But Gabriel was a wicked Trickster, and so he'd hidden the child away from Heaven's eyes and promised him to guard all those to come," Arthur had a storyteller's voice: calm, lulling. Marlene was reminded of all the times he had read to her as a child whenever she had nightmares. Who would've thought that she would someday live in one?</p><p class="p1">"But the Heaven wouldn't have it. Unable to find the child, the angels had damned Gabriel's entire bloodline for all eternity."</p><p class="p1">"What..." Marlene was terrified to say it out-loud. She gulped, "What's the curse?"</p><p class="p1">Arthur opened one of the drawers in the table and took out an old journal in a shabby leather cover, "Your grandfather had a theory," he opened it in the middle, searching for the right passage, "<em>Heaven's doors are closed to us, so are the Gates of Hell. Where go our souls? It is clear to me now that two cannot live until one is no more. Such is the balance. Such is the curse.</em>"</p><p class="p1">Marlene stared at the writings of the madman, sigils painted in blood on the crusty, yellow paper, ink blotted by tears. The words were filled with so much pain and misery, she felt an instant urge to look away. <em>Two cannot live until one is no more. </em>She remembered that great Tata Matilda's husband had died when grandfather Felix was in his twenties, and that grandfather Felix himself had died right after his son's wedding when Arthur was 23.</p><p class="p1">Marley felt her entire body freeze at the realisation. No, it couldn't be...</p><p class="p1">"Our family has always been in the middle of it. Always caught in the crossfire. This time is no different."</p><p class="p1">"This is bullshit," she said angrily, eyes glistening with tears, "He was a lunatic, dad, you can't possibly —"</p><p class="p1">"Gabriel confirmed it."</p><p class="p1">Marlene made a face, "Fuck Gabriel!"</p><p class="p1">"Marley, listen — "</p><p class="p1">"Why is he helping us anyway? What is the point of it all?"</p><p class="p1">"Because the angels know!" Arthur yelled. He never yelled, never lost his temper. Which is why Marlene instantly shut her mouth, "The angels know about you, but thanks to Gabriel, they can't find you. Haven't been able to for 22 years," he said calmly now, "But with the seals being broken and Lilith out...she's after you, Marlene."</p><p class="p1">"Lilith? After me? But why would she even — " Marlene stopped. <em>He told me I could have my fun</em>, "Tessa" had said. And she looked different than the other demons Marley had encountered, which there weren't many...but still, none of them had white eyes.</p><p class="p1">"What is it?"</p><p class="p1">"I think...I think I've met Lilith," Marlene couldn't believe she was actually saying it. Yesterday she didn't know demons existed, and now <em>this?</em></p><p class="p1">"Then they've been watching you for longer than we thought," Arthur stoked his silver beard, "You cannot go back, sweetheart."</p><p class="p1">Marlene had already thought about it on her way here. She wasn't an idiot, she knew that New-Haven would be the first place demons would go looking and if the winged guys caught the trail...well, that wouldn't lead to anything pleasant.</p><p class="p1">"I know," she said faintly, "Dad...what could she possibly want?"</p><p class="p1">"It's not what she wants, Marlene. It's what Lucifer <em>needs</em>."</p><p class="p1">Marlene's brows furrowed in confusion, "And he needs <em>me?</em>"</p><p class="p1">"Not exactly," Arthur said, anxious and worn out, "It's more about having something that the angels cannot. He wants you because he knows they're looking for you."</p><p class="p1">"So...what do we do now?" </p><p class="p1">Arthur threw a wary look on the wall with the mugshots of the FBI's two most wanted men, "Stay here and hope that the Winchesters deal with Lilith."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Red Right Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>Seven Devils</strong>
</p><p class="p1">Chapter 3 / Red Right Hand </p><hr/><p class="p1">Marlene had always heard stories about the supernatural.</p><p class="p1">It came with the territory — her father's moderate obsession (as <em>he</em> liked to put it) with folklore couldn't but rub off on her. Marley's bedtime stories weren't those of knights in shining armour and damsels in destress. She didn't care if the evil Queen wanted to poison Snow White or that Aurora would never wake up. No, her father'd told Marlene tales of real kings and queens, told her of fairies and the malevolent queen Maude; stories from the Bible when she was too young to read it, and spoke of Gods and creatures as old as time itself.</p><p class="p1">But those were just stories.</p><p class="p1">Until a little more than a week ago.</p><p class="p1">Marlene's reality had twisted and turned in ways she couldn't have even imagined, and she had spent every waking hour of her impromptu house arrest trying to come to grips with it. Trying to process the existence of everything she used to believe to be nothing but lore.</p><p class="p1">She had gone through every book on angels in Arthur's library (which there was a lot), but most of them depicted the winged menaces as benevolent celestial intermediaries between God and humanity. Sure, Marlene hadn't met many of them, but from the few she <em>had</em> and those who had cursed her entire bloodline, they didn't appear quite so benevolent.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The lives of thousands for the lives of millions — don't you think it's a fair price to pay for Heaven on Earth?</em>
</p><p class="p1">She almost asked her father about the man, the <em>angel</em>, who had visited him all those days ago. Almost. But every time Marley was close to breaching the subject, an invisible force seemed to stop her from doing it. Perhaps, she was simply afraid of hearing the truth. Marlene was never one for confrontation, anyway, and always sought to avoid it at all cost.</p><p class="p1">But the tension in the house was becoming palpable. And every time she managed to get a glimpse of her father (when he wasn't doing his best to avoid her), she saw shadows on his face that hadn't been there before. He looked wary, weathered, <em>wrong</em>. Like something was eating him from the inside. A parasite. A secret.</p><p class="p1">Arthur was restless. He would leave the house in the early morning to give a lecture, which was strange in itself since he had always insisted his subject be taught strictly after 11 a.m— Arthur liked his students awake, he argued. He would work in his office for hours and come home late in the evening. "This semester is pretty rough," he'd say and do it all over again.</p><p class="p1">Marlene didn't push, though. When she wasn't sleeping, she had her head stuck in a book, a journal by her side to write down any information that seemed valuable. She also read up about the sigils on their house —apparently, Arthur had put them there quite a long time ago to ward it from angels. He had told Marlene that the runes rendered them almost powerless and didn't allow entrance without permission. Clearly, Archangels were a fat, royal exception.</p><p class="p1">It was what Marley did best — read, learned and made thorough notes. She had her highlighter pens, and her stickers, and her notes, and those were her armour and her arms.</p><p class="p1">The noise in her head was driving Marlene crazy. There were days when she didn't hear it at all — the bliss — but it could return at any moment and strike her with a force that brought Marley close to tears. They spoke of things she couldn't understand. Loud and yet too quiet to make out. Gentle and yet piercing through her brain with torturous pain. Sometimes Marlene thought she heard a very distinct voice, that of a man. But just when it seemed she was close to finding the right frequency — it was gone. She had been trying again and again, day after day, with little to no success. To a perfectionist with a 4.0 GPA and a teacher's pet complex, it was becoming increasingly frustrating.</p><p class="p1">The fact that Maddock had been texting Marley every day didn't make her turmoil any easier. She knew she should've told him about her decision to take an <em>"academic leave"</em>. But she hadn't. How would Marlene even explain it? "Hey, sorry, gotta bail on grad school and every aspiration I've ever had because demons and angels are after me?"</p><p class="p1">Beyond all that, though, any contact with Marley could put Maddock in danger. After what had happened with Tessa, it wasn't a risk she was willing to take.</p><p class="p1">But the rumours had found their way to him eventually. Maddock had called and texted Marlene every day, asking why she'd up and left school and why she hadn't told him about it. The only reply she'd given was a curt "I'm okay. Family emergency." It had only made him more worried.</p><p class="p1">The messages grew more anxious and angry. Maddock had called her names, then apologised and threatened to call the police. He asked about Tessa, if she was with her since the blonde had disappeared without even notifying the university. But Marlene stayed silent. Demons were everywhere, could be <em>anyone</em>, her father'd said. And as much as it pained her, she couldn't even trust Maddock.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <b>Thursday, 3:54 </b>
</p><p class="p3">Just tell me you're ok</p><p class="p3">Marley</p><p class="p3">For fuck's sake</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">
  <b>Friday 10:47</b>
</p><p class="p3">Tessa's parents r here</p><p class="p3">The police v opened an investigation</p><p class="p3">
  <b>5:23</b>
</p><p class="p3">Still nothing?</p><p class="p3">
  <b>22:55</b>
</p><p class="p3">Fuck you, Marlene</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene couldn't stop rereading the messages. She read them before bed, only to spend an entire night tossing and turning, Tessa's white, glassy eyes staring back at her from the darkness; when she woke up in the morning, to remind herself of what was happening. It was easy to lose your grip on reality when stuck in a house all day. Marley hadn't talked to anyone but her father in over two weeks. And those conversations were nothing but a game of lies and hypocrisy.</p><p class="p1">She was eating cereals in the living room, still wearing pyjamas even though it was 2 pm. Her entire belief system had been shaken to its agnostic core, and Marlene saw no point in following the societal norms anymore. Her phone vibrated with a new notification. It was Maddock.</p><p class="p1">Marley's heart was thumping in her chest as she read the message:</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <b>Today, 14:15 </b>
</p><p class="p3">They think it's a homicide</p><p class="p3">Figured you'd care that your best friend might be dead</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She'd been staring at the screen so long, the words started to blur together. Homicide. Best friend. Dead. Marlene could understand the words perfectly. But together...they made no sense. They should've, though. Her father had told her that very day that a demon rarely ever left their vessel alive, out of spite, if anything else. And if that demon was Lilith...</p><p class="p1">A familiar din filler her ears. Marlene dropped the spoonful of cereal into the bowl, wincing, the pain too acute to simply ignore. Her hands shot up to her head, fingers deftly massaging the temples in a futile attempt to ease the pressure, yet it only grew. And the whispers were becoming louder.</p><p class="p1">"Stop..." Marley gritted out, jaw clenched, "stop — No!" Someone was screaming. Calling out for help? Assistance?</p><p class="p1">And then the whispers stopped. So did the pain. As a deafening silence settled, Marlene opened her eyes and felt a trickle of something warm run down her upper lip — her nose was bleeding. She wiped the blood away with a sleeve of her pyjamas and stared at the crimson stain on the white cotton.</p><p class="p1">After all the time trying to find a single voice among the racket, Marley finally had.</p><p class="p1">It was a name.</p><p class="p1">Castiel.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p1">"Dad."</p><p class="p1">He was in his study again, busy working on his speech for an upcoming symposium in Princeton. Marlene hadn't seen him all day, scourging any book she could find and wandering the recesses of google with little success — there was no angel known to lore by the name Castiel. But Marley had heard the name before. From the angel in her father's study. It was a long shot, sure, but it's not like she had a whole lot of leads.</p><p class="p1">"Yes, Marlene?" Arthur asked, typing away on his laptop.</p><p class="p1">Marley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, "Is...Gabriel the, uh, only angel you know?" she watched her father's face closely to gauge his reaction.</p><p class="p1">Arthur stopped typing. He looked up, "Why do you ask?"</p><p class="p1">"Why wouldn't I? It's not like you've been awfully upfront with me, dad," she told him, failing to hide the boiling, pant up anger she'd been nursing ever since <em>that</em> day, "I figured there's more where that came from."</p><p class="p1">"I understand it must be very confusing for you — "</p><p class="p1">"Trigonometry is confusing, dad. This?" Marley made an obscure gesture, throwing her hands in the air,"<em>This</em> is mind-boggling, a freaking...a freaking freak fest. I feel like I've been in a supernatural witness protection — which is, like,<em> what?</em> — and no one tells me anything, and you're gone <em>all</em> the time..." <em>And Tessa could be dead because of me</em>. <em>And you are fraternising with a strange creature that is willing to let thousands of people die in God's name. What are you hiding, dad?</em></p><p class="p1">Arthur closed his laptop, sensing that he wouldn't get any job done. "You're right. And I'm sorry for that. I suppose...I suppose I have been trying to shield you from this for so long, Marlene, it's hard for me to accept that...all of it, essentially, was in vain," he said, face grim and contemplative, "I know it doesn't excuse my behaviour. I've been a...<em>shitty</em> father these past few weeks."</p><p class="p1">Marley couldn't help a snort at the crass word. Arthur hardly ever swore. </p><p class="p1">"Well," she drawled with a tiny smirk that promised reconciliation, "You've been an okay dad for 22 years, so I guess you don't entirely suck."</p><p class="p1">He gave her a wane smile. <em>"You do your part, we do ours. It is all God's plan, Arthur"</em>. Marlene blinked away the echo and wondered inside the study. Her eyes instantly fell on the bookshelf that soared up to the very ceiling, a ladder placed in the corner of the room to reach the upper shelves. All the weird tomes made sense to her now. How gullible had Marley been to believe that any of them had anything to do with Harvard's curriculum.</p><p class="p1">"Is everything okay, dad?" she asked, noticing the wistful look in his eyes.</p><p class="p1">"Nothing is okay, Marlene. We're alive at the mercy of forces we don't understand, on the brink of a war that could bring an end to all of humanity," he sighed, elbows on the table, face in his hands. He looked so exhausted, "It pains me to see everyone being so blissfully blind to it. Not burdened by this knowledge. I wish I could give you this much, Marlene. I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of it."</p><p class="p1"><em>What are </em>you<em> in the middle of?</em></p><p class="p1">"I don't think any of us had a say in this," Marley said, plumping down into the armchair of dark green velvet, "Our promiscuous ancestors pretty much sealed our fate. All we can do is navigate this mess now, dad. But you've got to work with me here," she told him, praying that he'd tell the truth.</p><p class="p1">"Of course," Arthur gave a dutiful, tired nod.</p><p class="p1">"Is Gabriel the only angel you know?" Marlene asked again, calmer this time.</p><p class="p1">She didn't miss the slight furrow of his brows as he gave a curt, measured reply, "He is." Marley wanted to ask Arthur about Castiel and about the strange man she'd seen him talk to. Wanted to ask him if he truly thought that the death of thousands was a fair price to pay for the promise of peace. She wanted to talk about Tessa, and Lilith, and the curse and — she wanted to <em>talk</em> to him.</p><p class="p1">But something — and try as she might, Marley couldn't put a finger on it — something told her that whatever Arthur's answer would be, it wouldn't hold one ounce of truth. It took quite a skill to lie to someone for an entirety of their existence, which Arthur, as it turned out, possessed in great measure. Could Marley even trust him? Of course, her reason spoke, he's you father. But <em>should</em> she? <em>"The lives of thousands for the lives of millions — don't you think it's a fair price to pay for Heaven on Earth?" </em>Arthur'd said anything. And silence always meant agreement — he'd taught her that.</p><p class="p1">Marlene was desperate to cross the bridge of mistrust she had built over the weeks and reach out to him. She really was. But the sinking feeling in her chest was pulling on all the wrong strings that played a melody Marley couldn't get out of her head.</p><p class="p1">And so she didn't.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene woke up beaten and shattered after yet another sleepless night. A nagging pounding in her head, she rolled onto her back and stared blankly at the ceiling, mentally preparing herself for the day to come.</p><p class="p1">It was only when Marley heard unfamiliar noises coming from downstairs that she finally showed some signs of life. She sat up on the bed and listened closely — was that...music? Sure, stranger things had happened in the passed couple of weeks, but morning music would definitely make a beautiful cherry on top.</p><p class="p1">Marlene got out of bed grunting and muttering curses in the process, and trudged down the creaky stairs, following the catchy melody of some 50s sweet single that made her crave a vanilla milkshake. And if <em>that</em> wasn't strange enough then the distinct and mouth-watering smell of bacon should've done the trick. Her father barely managed to <em>eat</em> breakfast let alone <em>make</em> it. Now what the hell was going on?</p><p class="p1">There he was, swanning around the kitchen like a regular Donna Stone. Arthur flipped some pancakes, then took the bacon off the stove and checked if the coffee was ready. Marlene was gawking at him in shellshocked silence.</p><p class="p1">"Dad..."</p><p class="p1">Arthur's head snapped up from the over where he was checking on the scones. He smiled, "Good morning, sweetheart. Want some coffee?" he went to pour her a cup while she just stared dumbly.</p><p class="p1">"Are you...alright?"</p><p class="p1">"Of course I am," Arthur handed the cup to Marley and took a sip from his own, "The scones are almost ready, why don't you keep our guest some company? I'll be there is a jiffy."</p><p class="p1">Marlene frowned, looking at him in absolute confusion. "A <em>guest?</em> Dad, we shouldn't be inviting anyone to the house, you said so yourself — "</p><p class="p1">"Even me?"</p><p class="p1">She froze, eyes going wide. Slowly, Marley turned around and saw the familiar halo of golden hair and the cocky grin that drove half the boys on campus mad. Tessa was standing right there in a blue summer dress, brown eyes full of life and vigor. Was it truly her? Marlene remembered how cunning Lilith had been, how deceitful. Was that another trick?</p><p class="p1">"No nothin'? Some friend you are," Tessa drawled sarcastically. She sighed, "Okay, what's up with you? Have you been watching Dateline again? This shit's not good for anyone."</p><p class="p1">"Theresa," Arthur intoned reproachfully.</p><p class="p1">"Sorry, Mr.Gab."</p><p class="p1">"Why are you here?" Marlene asked a little too harshly.</p><p class="p1">Tessa gave her a confused look, "Because you invited me?"</p><p class="p1">"I...I didn't — I didn't invite you." Was she losing her mind? Was that it?</p><p class="p1">"Aw-kaaay, weirdo," Tessa grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate and leaning against the small kitchen island.</p><p class="p1">"Sweetheart, I'm going to go check if we have some ice left in the garage," Arthur said, "Keep an eye on those scones, alright?"</p><p class="p1">"Yeah," Marley droned distractedly, watching Tessa nibble on a pancake.</p><p class="p1">"So I was thinking, we could ride down to NW together tomorrow. Maddock is still stuck in Buffalo with his family, poor soul. His father's at it again with the whole WASP Mayflower legacy crap, and he's..."</p><p class="p1">Marlene wasn't listening, too busy studying her friend's face. Could it be her? Maybe Lilith had simply left Tessa's body to find a new one, and that, right there, was truly her friend? Tessa was telling something with extremely passionate animation, making weird gestures and ridiculous faces like she always did, only pausing to sip on her tea or take a bite of bacon.</p><p class="p1">Next thing Marley knew, she was enveloping her best friend in a suffocating hug.</p><p class="p1">"Wow, okay," Tessa laughed, barely managing to stay up from the force of the "<em>collision</em>". "So naive. So gullible. So much power in such a frail little meat suit. Such a shame."</p><p class="p1">Marlene jerked away, her entire body going numb, "What did you just say?"</p><p class="p1">"I said I didn't know you had the guns," Tessa said, wincing. She looked entirely normal. Like her usual self. "You almost squeezed me to death. Have you been working out without me, you traitorous hussy?"</p><p class="p1">"What..." Marley shook her head, "You're l-lying, you —"</p><p class="p1">Tessa looked worried, a frown cast upon her tanned, freckled face. It was so warm and open, so...human. Which was exactly what made the transition all the more striking. When the light was gone, replaced by malice and poisonous sinfulness. "Am I? Lying?" Tessa blinked and her eyes turned white. Glazed over.</p><p class="p1">Marlene stumbled back and grabbed a knife from the kitchen island, "Get away from me," she pointed it at the demon, hand shaking.</p><p class="p1">"Oh, but don't you wanna hug me?" Tess sent her a winsome smile that came it terrifying contrast with her soulless eyes.</p><p class="p1">"What did you do to her?"</p><p class="p1">"Wouldn't you like to know?"Tessa winked.</p><p class="p1">"You demonic bitch..."</p><p class="p1">"Hey, are you okay?" Tess suddenly asked, her round brown eyes troubled. Then she noticed the knife pointed at her, "Marley?..."</p><p class="p1">"Get. Away!" Marlene screamed when Tess took a hesitant step forward.</p><p class="p1">"Jesus, what's are you doing?"</p><p class="p1">Marley scowled, "Don't even try. It's not going to work. Not this time."</p><p class="p1">"What the hell are you talking about?!"</p><p class="p1">"Stop it!"</p><p class="p1">Tessa's lips stretched into a feline smile, "But it's so fun!" She giggled.</p><p class="p1">"Get out of this body," Marley greeted out, tightening her grip on the knife.</p><p class="p1">"How about..." the demon trailed off, feigning serious consideration, "...<em>not</em>."</p><p class="p1">"What do you want, then? I'll do anything if you let my friend go."</p><p class="p1">Tessa quirked an intrigued brow, "Anything?" Marley gave a hesitant nod. She could see the gears turning in the demon's wicked mind, a smile playing on her lips. It only widened when she came up with something, "Kill your daddy."</p><p class="p1">Marley's brows twitched together into a staggered frown, "What?"</p><p class="p1">"Kill him and I'll set her free."</p><p class="p1">"You go to Hell."</p><p class="p1">"Just came back, actually," Tessa said casually, "So what's it gonna be?"</p><p class="p1">Marlene snarled, "I think I'll just kill <em>you</em>."</p><p class="p1">"Oh, my," Tessa laughed, "Sure you wanna do that, honey?"</p><p class="p1">"Pretty damn sure."</p><p class="p1">Tessa considered this, looking mildly bored, "Well then..." </p><p class="p1">It all happened so fast, Marley hadn't even noticed that the knife was gone. With a single flick of a hand, it appeared in Tessa's hand, the steal of the blade flashing in the sunlight. And before Marlene knew it — slicing through her friend's throat.</p><p class="p1">"No!" she cried out, darting forward to catch Tessa's body before it slumped to the floor, "No, no, no...Tessa, come on, please..."</p><p class="p1">But her friend was choking, blood gurgling in her mouth. Tessa opened it as if to say something, but only a croak came out, her eyes wide and filled with anguish. Her body was shaking in spasms,and Marlene held on to it even tighter, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Tess, come on!"</p><p class="p1">And then she went still.</p><p class="p1">"No, no, no...Dad! Dad!" Marlene yelled, cradling Tessa's limp body. Blood was oozing from the gash in her throat, soaking the wooden tiles and Marlene's hands with crimson. "Dad!"</p><p class="p1">"I have to say..." Marley snapped her head at her father's voice. He was standing in the archway, face shockingly impassive. He looked unimpressed. Bored. "This was kind of anticlimactic."</p><p class="p1">"Dad?" Marlene whispered, a strange, foreboding feeling building in her chest.</p><p class="p1">"Hello, darling."</p><p class="p1">His eyes glowed red.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene gasped, shotting up from the sweat-soaked pillow. Those eyes...her body had felt like it was set aflame, blood boiling in her veins. Her vision was filled with crimson as Marley tried to calm her breathing, taking in the familiar surroundings of the living room. She must've passed out on the couch while reading a book. And sure enough, it was laying on her stomach, opened on chapter "<em>Common wards against demons</em>". Well, that explains it.</p><p class="p1">But the dream felt so sickeningly real. Marley looked down at her hands to make sure they were not stained with her friend's blood.</p><p class="p1">The same color as her father's eyes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene had been googling Tessa's name every day.</p><p class="p1">And every day the search engine's page would give her nothing but obscure genealogy websites and Tessa's extensive web presence. On those days, Marlene breathed with relief. Because each time she typed her friend's name with numbing trepidation, she feared to see a news report or an obituary in Yale Daily News pop up.</p><p class="p1">Eventually, it did.</p><p class="p1">The New-Haven police had found a body of a young female near West River, fully clothed, signs of hypothermia. Cause of death — broken neck and internal bleeding. She had fallen from the cliff, the report said. <em>Suicide</em>.</p><p class="p1">There was an obituary in Yale Daily news:<b>Theresa Margaret Armitage, 1985-2009, a beloved student, friend and daughter. </b>They mourned Tessa and praised her for her outstanding academic achievements. But Tess hated Yale and had been almost kicked out for missing five deadlines for her graduate thesis. They had chosen a terrible picture. She would've absolutely hated it — her nose looked too long, she would've said.</p><p class="p1">Marlene was sitting on her bed, staring at Tessa's smile that lit up the entire screen. She was young and full of promise, holding her Bachelor's diploma, blonde hair looking like spun gold in the sunlight. The picture had been cropped to leave out Marlene and Maddock, but Marley still recognised it. Tessa's mother had taken it on the day of their graduation last year.</p><p class="p1">Tessa's face began to blur. Tears overflowed her eyes, and Marlene squeezed them shut, letting the droplets run down her cheeks. One after another, as she quietly weept for her best friend. The friend Marlene had lost long before the police found the body. The friend whose death she was responsible for. The friend who would've been alive had they never met. The friend Lilith had killed.</p><p class="p1">And just liked that, the sadness melted into scorching anger. Marlene brushed her tears away and jerked her head up to the ceiling, "Gabriel!" she yelled out. Nothing. "Gabriel!" Again, her cry was met with silence. Arthur had told her that praying to an angel was the only way of communication. But it seemed that Gabriel was either ignoring her or wasn't getting her call. Somehow, Marley was sure it was the former.</p><p class="p1">"You son of a bitch!" she cried out in frustration and slammed the laptop shut. She had been doing nothing but reading for almost three weeks — three freaking weeks — while Tessa's body was lying in a dump, and Lilith had been prancing around breaking seals in a new vessel. There had to be something Marlene could do — she was gifted, after all. Whatever the hell that meant.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene didn't get to use her nonexistent gifts (apart from the headache that she'd been nursing all morning). The following day, though, she was in her father's study, scouring every drawer in his expensive mahogany table, looking through every folder in his cabinet. And all she found was a massive pile of squat.</p><p class="p1">The reason Marlene was turning her father's study upside down was because she needed to find a phone number. John Winchester's phone number. She had to get in contact with those infamous Winchester brothers, and since there was no way of tracking them down, snooping in her father's past was the only option. Arthur was a ridiculously meticulous hoarder — walking oxymoron, that man — and had rarely ever thrown anything away, much less journals and notebooks. Marlene only hoped that the old man hadn't changed his number.</p><p class="p1">Right when she was dangerously close to giving up, her eyes fell upon a door in the back of the room, hidden in the shadows of Arthur's impressive globe collection. It's ridiculous that she hadn't noticed it before. Was there a wardrobe that led to Narnia that she didn't know about, too? <em>Of course</em>, that's where all the good stuff was to be found. It's like she hadn't even lived here for 18 years.</p><p class="p1">Triumphant, Marley strolled up to it and reached for the door knob. Yes, it was locked. How idiotically naive it was of her to believe that her father would want her to roam that Masonic den of lies. And so Marlene did what any reasonable adult with a degree from Yale would do — she googled how to unlock the door with a hairpin.</p><p class="p1">Never had she understood the meaning of streetsmart more than she did then. And how she lacked any and all practical survival skills. Reciting passages from the Old Testament in perfect Classic Hebrew and translating monoliths from Old Armenian wasn't exactly the knowledge one could implement in real life. At least, if you weren't Indiana Jones.</p><p class="p1">But oh, when she'd heard that delightful click, it was better than any 'Excellent' she had got on her essays. And so after almost an hour trying to open the blasted door, Marlene finally did it. The hinges let out a winey creak, as unwelcoming as the stuffy air inside the room. Jesus, it really needed to be properly ventilated. Marley decided to leave the door open, if only to avoid dying.</p><p class="p1">She couldn't tear her eyes away from the wall. 22 years of research. 22 years of living in fear, constantly looking over your shoulder. 22 years of seeking the truth. Only for all of it to end up like this. On the brink of Apocalypse. That he...</p><p class="p1"><em>No</em>, Marley cut off the poisonous trail of thoughts. Instead, her eyes traveled lower, to the mugshots of the two men she was looking for. The tall one, Gabriel'd said, was like her. <em>Gifted</em>. Yeah, funny that. Marlene studied his grim face, so disgruntled it, almost looked like a petulant pout. His brother, though, looked completely unbothered — clearly, it hadn't been his first rodeo.</p><p class="p1"><em>Right</em>, Marlene reminded herself, looking away from the pictures, <em>find the freaking number</em>.</p><p class="p1">The table in this room was a perfect example of organised chaos: clattered with books and papers in a way that made perfect sense and was easy to navigate. Too bad they were all useless to Marlene who was becoming annoyed by the lack of any progress. She did find some random notes in the drawers, but those were just dates, names she didn't recognise and strange lists.</p><p class="p1">"Come on, dad," Marley muttered, flipping through the journals filled with bazaar recipes. They looked awfully like spells if she were honest. <em>Just your regular Sabrina</em>. She sighed and put the papers back where she'd found them.</p><p class="p1">Bored and annoyed, Marlene reached for the last drawer, but it wouldn't budge. She frowned and pulled harder, yet it still wouldn't open. Properly intrigued now, Marley crouched down. She put one hand on the table, the other on the drawer handle and pulled with all the strength she had.</p><p class="p1">The drawer flew open, nearly sending Marley falling straight on her ass. Even more pissed off now, she pushed some stray hair away from her face and took a look inside. There was a journal, a golden crucifix that belong to her mother and a velvet pouch of something that Marlene decided was herbs when she smelled it.</p><p class="p1">The journal was different from the others she'd gone, through: it looked older, warn out, thick with notes and photographs and ripped out book pages. Marley traced the rough, slightly yellowed pages with the gentle pads of her fingers, eyes scanning Arthur's immaculate handwriting.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Entry from 31 November, 1986</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I don't have any of father's dusts anymore. I need more ingredients to make them, but the spellwork is too advanced. We need protection. It can come for Marlene again. I still haven't figured out what it was. The only thing I saw were yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&lt;...&gt; I still haven't figured out how to summon him. The sigils I get, but the ingredients are too hard to come by. No one is willing to sell them to me. They think I'm a hunter. I didn't know the word had such a different meaning in this world. I wish we weren't the hunted. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Marlene studied her father's sketch of yellow eyes, imagining them looking down at her as she slept peacefully in her crib. Where would've she been right now had Azazel not come to their house that night? Laughing with Tessa and helping Maddock get himself a girlfriend on Tinder, worrying about her thesis and having to wake up for an 8 a.m lecture?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Entry from March 23, 1987 </b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>There is nothing wrong with my daughter. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I tell this to myself every day. Looking at her, putting her to sleep. Feeding her. She is just a child — how could something terrible have happened to a soul so new to the cruelness of this world? I blame myself. I should've listened to my father long ago. If I had, maybe that thing wouldn't have come for my daughter.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&lt;...&gt;</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>She is a year old today. It's also a year since Sophia died. Is she watching over us? Does she hate me?</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The ink was blotched from tears, but Marlene knew that was her mother's name. Sophia Ter-Gabrielyan neé Rushinek, a brilliant scholar with a bright future. Her mother. Arthur's beloved wife. Yet another person she'd killed by simply being alive.</p><p class="p1">Sometimes Marlene felt guilty for not missing her more. Should she have? Her mother was a distant idea, like an angel who was always by your side but never in your life. Marley had no real memories to cherish. She didn't know the sound of her mother's laughter. She didn't know what lullabies she would've sung or if she would've kissed her to sleep. All Marlene had was very rare stories from her father. He didn't like talking about her.</p><p class="p1">Marley blinked away her tears and flipped to another page. It was covered in sigils and notes — was that a diagram? — an incantation in Latin scribbled in the right corner. GABRIEL ARCHANGEL OF THE LORD was written with a thick, black marker. Was that how her father'd summoned Gabriel?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Entry from June, 1987</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I have achieved something my father never could. He wouldn't have been proud of me. I would've rubbed it in his face to show I that bested him at something. I wish things were different. But they wouldn't be even if he were still alive. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Gabriel didn't look like an angel. At least, not the angels I'd imagined: tall, golden-haired warriors with wings and spears, oozing divinity. He looked like a con artist. But there was a grace to him, something ethereal that seemed otherworldly. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>He wasn't pleased. No one dares summon an archangel. He said he'd heard of the girl. The danger is much greater than I thought. My father's dusts are almost gone. Those I made myself are much weaker, I don't think I can hide us for much longer.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Gabriel promised to help with that. He said that demons weren't the only thing we should fear. That the angels know about Marlene and they want her dead.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Are you looking over us, Sophia? Can you help?</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Entry from April, 1990</b>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>John Winchester's is a great man. My father would've loved him, which I find irritating. I wish I could be more like him, but all I have is books. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I feel sorry for his boys. Seeing them reassured me that I've made the right decision. I'll give Marlene the life she deserves for as long as I possibly can. She will never be burdened with it, living the life of revenge and bitterness, robbed of a careless childhood. One of his boys, Sam, is like her, John said. He is a quiet kid, sad. Marlene is nothing like that. They are just kids. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em> &lt;...&gt; John's traced the demon. He calls it yellow-eyes, which is a very apt name indeed. I wish I could be of more help.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>&lt;....&gt; They're leaving Cambridge. I asked John if they had a home. He said they didn't need one. What was a home, anyway? Or rather, who?</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There was a photograph pinned to the page by a shabby paper clip. It was old and faded, dusted and a little crumpled: two boys and a little girl in a princess dress. Marley was about five years old at the time the picture had been taken — she remembered that costume perfectly. Knowing Arthur, it was probably still stored somewhere in the basement.</p><p class="p1">She had a vague memory of that day. It was Halloween, and her dad had taken her trick or treating as he did every year. Only that time, they had company: one of Arthur's friends had dropped his kids off at their place, and they had decided to go together. Marley remembered that the older boy had been against it, but his brother seemed really excited.</p><p class="p1">Marlene unpinned the picture to take a closer look at it. The older boy stood in the middle, arms wrapped around his little brother and herself, smiling at the camera. It was probably Arthur who had taken the photo. Also, judging by the disgruntled look on Marley's face, she wasn't impressed by his instructions.</p><p class="p1">She flipped the picture. <b><em>John's boys and Marlene, Cambridge, 1991</em></b> was written on the back next to a phone number. Brows furrowed, Marley looked at the photo again. John's boys...the Winchester brothers? She didn't know Arthur was this close to the man. So, she had met them once. Sam and Dean. FBI's most wanted, hunters, killers. Looking at the picture, it was hard to believe that those kids would end up stopping the Apocalypse. Hell, who knew that the little girl in a princess dress would turn out to be...this?</p><p class="p1">Arthur, probably.</p><p class="p1">There it was, though — John Winchester's phone number. Three of them, actually: one crossed out, probably out of use, the other two Marley would have to try. She took out her phone and dialled one, but the operator gently told her that the number was unavailable. And so Marlene called the other one, praying to all Gods who listened that the call would go through.</p><p class="p1">Whoever answered her prayers, Marley was eternally grateful, because there were clear beeps on the other line. Four, five, eight, nine. No one was answering, but she wasn't giving up. Marlene'd stay on the line until the operator told her to fuck off.</p><p class="p1">"Hello?" a gruff voice answered.</p><p class="p1">She almost dropped her phone. Marley had got too used to the beeping and was startled by the ramble of the voice. Which one of the brothers was that?</p><p class="p1">"Um, hello?" she ventured tentatively. The last time Marlene'd felt this nervous, she was Russia in model UN in high school, "Is that, uh, is that John's phone?"</p><p class="p1">"Who's asking?"</p><p class="p1">"M-Marlene," she mumbled and then said louder, "He, uh, I mean my <em>father</em> was —"</p><p class="p1">"You 'nother kid of his?"</p><p class="p1">"What? N-no, wh — "</p><p class="p1">"Listen, I can't help you right now, kid," he cut her off unceremoniously. Marlene opened and closed her mouth like a idiotic fish, "If you've got a problem, reach out to Bobby Singer, alright? He'll take care of it."</p><p class="p1">"Wait, but what about John Winchester?"</p><p class="p1">A pause. "He's dead."</p><p class="p1">Marley heard a car drive by on the other end of the line. Right before the call was ended. And <em>she</em> hadn't been the one who ended it.</p><p class="p1">Marlene stared at her phone it bewilderment, half convinced it had all been a dream. Had this conversation been real? She had never been so disappointed in her life. Talk about anticlimactic. And she had gone trick or treating with that guy? <em>Ah</em>.</p><p class="p1">She tried calling the number again, but the bastard had turned off the phone. Marley also tried to find something about this Bobby Singer guy in her father's journal, but there was no mention of him. Nothing.</p><p class="p1">There was only one other name Marley had. Only one lead.</p><p class="p1">Castiel.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. False Prophets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>Seven Devils </b>
</p><p class="p1">Chapter 4 / False Prophets</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">"<em>And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">—</span>
  <span class="s1">Book of Revelation 20:1</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p5">Marlene woke up extra early that day. Alright, she didn't exactly<em> wake up</em> since she hadn't really gone to sleep in the first place. No, the thoughts that terrorised her mind were too relentless to let Marley get even a wink of sleep. Instead, she'd spent the entire night looking through the notes she'd made from her father's journal, trying to memorise the diagram and the sigils that were needed to...summon an angel.</p><p class="p5">The fact that it was a spectacularly idiotic idea didn't escape her. Marlene acknowledged how poorly thought out it was and how it could potentially end very, very badly. For all she knew, Castiel could be a spawn of evil, the worst of the worst. He'd probably waist no time in alerting his buddies to her presence, and then all Heaven's wrath would be directed upon a small house in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Those thoughts were perfectly rational, but somehow, Marlene knew they were false. Somehow, she knew she could trust him.</p><p class="p5">Eyes puffy and dry from the lack of sleep, head heavy and pulsating with pain, Marley left her room with the first rays of sunshine to get a drop of coffee. She'd have an IV if that was an option, anything to get it into her system as fast as possible. Because she needed to be alert, sharp and present. Now...well, now Marlene was feeling like she was made of freaking cotton and it would take a single drop of water for her to melt.</p><p class="p5">Coffee did a tremendous job at boosting her system and making Marley's brain think that it was, in fact, doing great. Her pounding heart didn't get the memo, though, and she was getting kind of manic, now on her third cup. Even Arthur almost jumped from shock at seeing his daughter in the kitchen at such an early our.</p><p class="p5">"Coffee?" she offered with a disturbingly wide smile.</p><p class="p5">Arthur poured himself a cup, still eying her with suspicion. He made himself a cream cheese bagel to go, bid Marlene a great day and left for work as if the world wasn't coming to a freaking end.</p><p class="p5">"Have a great day, sweetheart," Marley mimicked and took another sip of coffee. God, it tasted awful. She missed "Sailor's" and her afternoon coconut lattes, and the way she didn't need to summon an angel to figure out what was going on and if her father was conspiring to sacrifice thousands of people. Yes, those were the good ol' days.</p><p class="p5">Mood significantly soured by nostalgia and driven by paranoia, Marlene set to work. She looked through the list of ingredients again — it was surprisingly normal, nothing that couldn't be found in the pantry, especially one in an Armenian household. She took one of her grandma's jars from the cabinet and filled it with an assortment of dried herbs— Marley hoped Arthur wouldn't notice that she'd taken some of his favourite jasmine. She felt like a preppy student bracing herself for a particularly nasty exam. Only in this case, it wouldn't be her GPA that suffered.</p><p class="p5">With the needed ingredients and a half-broken chalk in hand, she went down to the basement. </p><p class="p5"><em>Snap</em>.</p><p class="p5">The room was set alight, filled with boxes upon boxes upon boxes — it almost looked like an abandoned storage facility. It would probably take weeks to get through all the stuff in here, if not months. Marley would probably choke on dust if she opened one of the boxes.</p><p class="p5">Eyeing the whole mess with mild curiosity, she squeezed through her baby crib and an old fridge (Arthur didn't want to throw it away because Marlene had drawn a huge-ass flower on it with a permanent marker, which was, apparently, cute as hell).</p><p class="p5">There was a reasonably free corner, away from piles of garb — um, memories, and Marley began to draw the diagram. Her father's journal had said that it would serve to trap an angel. She hadn't trapped anything ever before, much less a celestial being, so that was a fun activity indeed.</p><p class="p5">The circle came out kind of wanky, but the ancient sigils turned out weirdly alright, almost perfect, even. Marlene took pride in that. Too bad there was no one around to give her the praise she needed.</p><p class="p5">"Okay," she breathed as she rose to her feet from the kneeling position and inspected the diagram. Not too shabby for the first ever angel-summoning.</p><p class="p5">Marley went on to draw a smaller circle, divided it into four quadrants and placed a set of candles on each corner, next to the sigils. The herbs were ready, the needed trinket by its side — the only thing left was to set the ingredients on fire. Marlene took out a match from the matchbox she'd brought with her and lit it. The match ignited with a sizzling hiss, the fire slowly dancing down the wood. Marlene quickly brought it to the candles. Her hand froze above the bowl. Was she really doing this? Whatever would happen, there was no going back.</p><p class="p5">And so she dropped the match.</p><p class="p5">A loud whoosh followed, smoke rising from the bowl, and through its thin veil Marley saw a man. He was slim, dressed in a beige trench coat, raven hair askew as though he'd just rolled out of bed. He looked around, confused and guarded, brows furrowed. Finally, his piercing blue eyes landed on Marlene.</p><p class="p5">She was gawking at him, shocked that the summoning had actually worked. That mere seconds ago the circle was empty, just a silly drawing with strange signs, and now there was a person. An angel. Who'd appeared out of thin air. Marlene had ordered an angel to be here. Holy shit. <em>Literally</em>.</p><p class="p5">The angel tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. "You summoned me?"</p><p class="p5">"I, um...I suppose. Yeah."</p><p class="p5">"Who are you?"</p><p class="p5">Marlene was a little surprised by the question. From what Gabriel had said, all the winged menaces couldn't wait to get their hands on her family. Huh, so his cloaking spell <em>was</em> working, after all.</p><p class="p5">"Marlene," she told him hesitantly.</p><p class="p5">Castiel was quiet for some time. He stared at her, <em>assessing</em> her, trying to figure out why he was here. It was making her increasingly uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. "You're Castiel?"</p><p class="p5">He looked eternally confused. "Should you not have already known that?"</p><p class="p5">"I mean I...didn't know it would be...you, exactly."</p><p class="p5">"I do not understand what you mean," the angel frowned, "Who did you expect to see if not me — Castiel — whom you have summoned into the lower levels of this place of residence?"</p><p class="p5">"I...just heard them say your name."</p><p class="p5">Castiel visibly tensed, "Who?"</p><p class="p5">"Your buddies upstairs."</p><p class="p5">It seemed to only deepen his confusion, "I have no...friends or acquaintances in this abode."</p><p class="p5">"What? No, I meant, like, other angels. Up there?" Marlene gestured to the ceiling, but it didn't seem to work.</p><p class="p5">He looked even more troubled, sharply alert, "Where did you hear it?"</p><p class="p5">Marlene didn't really know how to answer that question. If she told him about the angel radio, she'd risk Gabriel's cover and compromise all the years he had been hiding her family from the very creature standing before her. And so she opted for half that.</p><p class="p5">"I heard an angel mention it."</p><p class="p5">"But you used a plural form of the word which is supposed to mean there were multiple...<em>buddies</em> speaking my name."</p><p class="p5">The way he talked made her head hurt, "Yeah, I'm not big on grammar."</p><p class="p5">Castiel stayed silent, in deep contemplation over her words. "Who was that...<em>one</em> angel?"</p><p class="p5">"I don't know. You don't really wear name tags, do you?"</p><p class="p5">"Would that really make things easier?" the angel asked, sounding genuinely curious.</p><p class="p5">Marlene sighed, completely on edge, anxiety making her heart run a mile a second. This one must've hit his head when he came down to earth, "He was bald, wearing a suit. Seemed kind of shady. And to answer your question — <em>yes</em>, that would make things loads easier."</p><p class="p5">Marley noticed Castiel's eyes shift with recognition. He set his jaw, face pensive, perturbed.</p><p class="p5">"You know him?"</p><p class="p5">He gave a measured nod, "The one you speak of is named Zachariah. I do, however, find it very strange."</p><p class="p5">"Why?"</p><p class="p5">"It is very unlike him to have dealings with humans. And you say he spoke with you?"</p><p class="p5">"N-not me. My dad..."</p><p class="p5">"And he still lives?"</p><p class="p5">Marlene made a face at him, eyes wide, "Jesus, what kind of question is this? Yes, he still lives."</p><p class="p5">"What did Zachariah discuss with your father?" Castiel was all business now.</p><p class="p5">"I only got to hear little bits, but...they were talking about Lilith," she watched his face for a reaction. And it didn't disappoint — he seemed completely taken aback. Marlene had shocked an angel. Wow.</p><p class="p5">"Who are you?" he asked again, more on guard now, stance visibly confrontational. His deep blue eyes studied Marley, then flickered up. The angel narrowed them, a realisation slowly washing over his features, "You're not human."</p><p class="p5">"Okay, chill out, Inspector Gadget — "</p><p class="p5">"What else do you know?" Castiel asked with growing suspicion.</p><p class="p5">Marley heaved a heavy sigh of annoyance, "Ridiculously little. And unfortunately enough. But...that — <em>Zachariah </em>— said that you'd make sure she's dead. That <em>Lilith</em> is dead."</p><p class="p5">Castiel seemed to be slowly processing the information, disturbingly quiet, "To what end did you summon me here, <em>Marlene</em>?" he said her name like he was tasting it, not quite used to the sound and probably thinking what it is that she was. </p><p class="p5">"Look," Marlene breathed out, running a hand through her main of dark hair, "I'm not completely sure I can trust you, Castiel. Angels are not awfully honourable in my, um, limited experience. But there's very little time left and I don't have much to go on here so this is the only option I've got. So I'm just gonna say it," she probably sounded like a woman mad, but in her defence she <em>had</em> spent weeks hauled up in the house reading books about angels and demons and all things unholy, "I...I think that you shouldn't kill Lilith," she blurted out.</p><p class="p5">Castiel's face hardened, "Lilith <em>must</em> die. If we don't vanquish her, she'll break the last seal and set Lucifer free."</p><p class="p5">"Just hear me out, alright? I may not know much about angels and demons and how you guys work; in real live, anyway," Marley told him frantically, "But I know a bad guy when I see one, blame it on my Dateline obsession if you will. And that Zachariah dude? Wannabe Charles Manson."</p><p class="p5">All references had obviously gone over Castiel's head. His brows twitched together,"What makes you think that Zachariah is a...<em>bad guy?</em>" the words sounded foreign coming out of his mouth; awkward.</p><p class="p5">"He said something to my father that day. The day I saw him. I didn't understand it at first, but with everything..." she tapered off and took a deep breath, "I...I don't want to think that my dad...that he — he's <em>not</em> a bad man," Marley told the angel but felt like she was trying to reassure herself, "Zachariah spoke of some God's plan," she said more forcefully now, "He...he said that thousands of lives lost over millions saved was a fair price to pay for...for," Marlene gulped, remembering the exact way Zachariah had put it, "<em>Heaven on Earth</em>".</p><p class="p5">Castiel's face grew dark, no longer thoughtful, but almost enraged. The change in the angel's entire demeanour didn't escape Marlene's attention. Suddenly, he seemed too big for the measly room, locked inside the small circle like a wild animal in a cage.</p><p class="p5">"What's wrong?" Marley asked, worried. Could he get out of the trap? Should she be afraid? She didn't feel afraid, though.</p><p class="p5">"You need to free me, <em>immediately</em>."</p><p class="p5">Her brows shot up, "So you really can't leave?" <em>Thank G</em> — no, that didn't seem appropriate anymore.</p><p class="p5">"No," Castiel replied with a face that said that she really should've known that before summoning an angel, "The sigils you have drawn are a trap." Marlene made an impressed face, proud of herself. She had captured an angel. Castiel looked at her with thoughtful curiosity, "You truly are ignorant."</p><p class="p5">"Excuse me?" Marley stuttered, too stunned to be properly offended.</p><p class="p5">"You must break the circle, Marlene," Castiel implored, ignoring her question. His face was rigid, stance anxious.</p><p class="p5">"I'm right, aren't I?" Marley's voice was laced with resignation. She was happy to have figured it out and yet absolutely terrified at the prospect of absolute Devine annihilation. And disappointed. That, she was most of all. "That ma — <em>angel</em> — wants to bring on the Apocalypse?"</p><p class="p5">
  <em>And my father...wants to help him?</em>
</p><p class="p5">"Yes, I believe he does," Castiel said grimly, "I must go now before they do something that cannot be undone," he muttered to himself.</p><p class="p5">"You mean you must warn the Winchesters?" Marley wagered.</p><p class="p5">The angel shot her a look of surprise, "You know them?"</p><p class="p5">"More like <em>of</em> them. I tried calling, whichever one of them answered wasn't in a very cooperative mood. He hung up on me."</p><p class="p5">Castiel nodded, almost in understanding, "It must've been Dean. He can be rather unpleasant," he told her, probably having experienced the "unpleasantness" first hand. And those were the people who would save the world from its impending doom?</p><p class="p5">How did a man even kill a demon? Marlene had met Lilith, and the sheer darkness that came off that monster in waves felt poisonous. She was wicked, she was strong, she was Lucifer's firstborn. But if angels themselves bet on the Winchesters to kill Lilith...well, they must've been up for the job. Being FBI's most wanted came with the territory, Marley supposed.</p><p class="p5">And then it hit her.</p><p class="p5">"Oh my God," she whispered, unbothered by the weirdness of saying it in front of an angel. Castiel regarded her with concern, brows furrowed. Marlene looked up at him, "If Zachariah and my father want them to kill Lilith..."</p><p class="p5">The angel exhaled a laboured breath, lips pursed, "Her demise could be the last seal."</p><p class="p5">Before she could change her mind, Marlene rushed to the circle and used the sole of her sneakers to erase the meticulously drown chalk. She looked up at the angel, who appeared mildly taken aback by her sudden decision, eyes burning with determination, "Go stop them."</p><p class="p5">A flash of gratitude passed over Castiel's kind eyes. And then he vanished.</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p7">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p9">Marlene wanted to confront him. She was sitting in the living room, Arthur's journal by her side, thinking of all the ways she could throw everything she knew right into his face. Yes, Marley'd say, she knew all about his deal with Zachariah. Was Tessa just one of the thousands to die in order for the world to be remade in that egomaniac's image? What else was he hiding from her?</p><p class="p9">Oh, how she wanted to see the look on Arthur's face when all his lies were finally unraveled. He'd likely try to justify his actions, but Marlene didn't care — nothing was worth the death of a single life, let alone thousands of them.</p><p class="p9">She'd waited for hours, hidden in the shadows in anticipation of her father's arrival, like a mysterious detective from those noir movies he liked so much. Arthur had that silly hat that made him think he was Al Capone, an old cigar given to him by a fellow professor to boot. He never lit it though — her father condoned smoking with a passion. He'd show her his favourite movies and would comment on every important scene, unable to curb his excitement. It was in those moments that Arthur seemed to forget about all their troubles. I was in those moment that he would tell Marlene about her mother. He had taken Sophia to see "Hilda" on their first date, after all.</p><p class="p9">As hours went by, Marley didn't ravel in exposing her father anymore. If anything, she felt disgusted. And sad. Marlene mourned the man he had been, the man she <em>thought</em> he was and didn't know if she was ready to see the face of the one he had become.</p><p class="p9">She zipped the beg with some clothes in it — the few items she still had at home — and sat down on her bed, head raised towards the ceiling, "Hey, Gabriel," Marley said with a resigned sigh, "You're probably not listening, but I'm just gonna talk and hope it ends up in your voicemail."</p><p class="p9">She swept her childhood bedroom with a long, melancholic look, "I'm going to try and fix whatever my dad's got him himself into. You're free to pop up and stop me." Nothing happened. Marlene pursed her lips — <em>figures</em> — and went on, "You...you've already done so much for us, but, um, there's one more favour I'd like to ask," she played nervously with the strap of the bag, "Please, <em>please</em> look after my father. And me...well, I'm gonna figure something out. <em>Over</em>."</p><p class="p9">Shaking her head at her own antics, Marlene stood up, threw the strap of the bag over her shoulder and went downstairs. Wallet, ID, car keys, phone — everything was in perfect order. There was only one thing left to do.</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p11">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. [Revelation 6:9]</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p9">Marley stuck the note to the living room mirror and caught her reflection staring back. She looked tired, with prominent dark circles against her pale skin, eyes red-rimmed and puffy from the lack of sleep and the spilt tears. But there was something steely in their depths, a glimmering determination. With a little nod to herself, she walked out the door.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p7">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p9">Marlene blamed movies for her high expectations for nearly everything. Highschool was nothing like Breakfast Club, her first relationship was less exciting than a Jeopardy episode, and the only party she'd been to in college was thrown by the Dean.</p><p class="p9">Now she could add "living on the road" to the long list of disappointments. She was hoping to be a classy fugitive, like modern Bonny Clyde, have a cigarette or two and then rob a bank and move to Bermuda with her boy-toy lover. Instead, she had five Reese's, a pack of Funyuns, and a nice nap in a Walmart parking lot somewhere in Cleveland.</p><p class="p9">She tried calling John Winchester's number again to get in contact with his wayward sons, but it was still dead. Had Castiel found them? Did they know the truth?</p><p class="p9">"Another cup, honey?" a middle-aged waitress with bleached blonde hair asked, "Looks like you need it."</p><p class="p9">Marley tore her eyes away from the screen of her laptop, "Yes, thank you," she told the woman with a tired smile. Of course, she needed it. And a back massage, too. Also, a meal that didn't include waffles, pancakes or a egg'n'bacon bagel.</p><p class="p9">Marlene tried not to stay in one place for too long. The day before, she had been in Ohio where she'd withdrawn all money from her credit card. — she'd had no cash left. Marley set off right after that and drove all the way to Illinois without a single stop. Okay, she had made one stop to pee and buy some junk fuel to last her the rest of the way. </p><p class="p9">She'd decided to stay in Chicago — it was much easier to disappear in a big city rather than an endearing provincial town. Marlene'd got a room in a reasonably cheap motel and had decided to stay there for at least two days to get her wits together and come up with some kind of a plan. Most importantly, though, she needed to protect herself.</p><p class="p9">Her father often spoke about "<em>dusts</em>" in his journal. Every page was filled with scribbles about their attributes and how they could be modified with more basic ingredients. There were many recipes and incantations in different languages, instructions on how to crush the leaves and burn the bones. Each dust had its particular qualities and limited usage, but the one her father was working on was an amalgamation of many. The dust that was used against demons.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p9">
  <em>&lt;...&gt; The ingredients are hard to come by. Regular occult shops don't sell them. But of course, that would be too obvious. There are hidden sigils on doors. Witches don't sell to hunters...</em>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p9">Marlene wrote down a few places worth checking out in Chicago, finished the coffee and began her search for the strange ingredients. The journal said to look for secret sigils on doors — apparently, that was a sign for those who knew where to look. Attracting the right clientele and all that. Since Marlene had spotted the sigils on their house back in Cambridge, she supposed she knew what to look for. As expected, almost all the shops on her list turned out to be nothing but tourist attractions. Almost. Except for an apothecary in Westloop, where the door was adorned with a shining circle filled with ancient writings.</p><p class="p9">"Abandone all hope," Marley muttered and pushed it open.</p><p class="p9">The musky smell of frankincense hit her nostrils — she instantly recognised it from church services in her Armenian Sunday school. It sat heavily in the air, mixed with woody aromas tinged with smoke. The shop was unlike the others Marlene had visited that day — there were no sculls, chicken feet and other cheap trinkets hanging around. No burgundy velvets, crystal balls or taro cards. The place looked strikingly normal, very minimalistic, clean.</p><p class="p9">"Need help?"</p><p class="p9">An old woman appeared at the counter. Marlene smiled, albeit rather hesitantly, and walked further into the store.</p><p class="p9">"I saw...the sign on your door."</p><p class="p9">"Did you?" the woman bore a heavy slavic accent, "What you want?"</p><p class="p9">Marley reached into her bag, "I have a list — "</p><p class="p9">"No. What do you want <em>here</em>?"</p><p class="p9">"I need ingredients," Marlene replied unsurely.</p><p class="p9">The woman stared at her in silence, her wrinkled blue eyes assessing, "You a witch?"</p><p class="p9">"N-no."</p><p class="p9">"A hunter?"</p><p class="p9">"<em>No</em>," Marley all but yelled. The woman frowned. Marlene cleared her throat, "No, I'm not a...a hunter. I just need these ingredients," she put the list on the glass surface of the counter and looked straight at the old lady, "<em>Please</em>."</p><p class="p9">The woman gave Marley a haughty look and picked up the piece of paper. Crimson lips pursed, she 'hmmed' and 'uh-huhed' while scanning the items. And then she left to the backroom. Marlene just stood there, confused — was that a way to tell her to get lost or?...</p><p class="p9">"Here," the woman put a plastic bag on the counter with unceremonious brashness. It was filled with all sorts of dried herbs, powders and...God, were those actual bones? "Holy water helps, too," she told her knowingly. How?..."Don't do crazy, girl."</p><p class="p9">Marlene looked up from the bag and met the Slavic woman's heavily kohled eyes. She gulped, Lilith's milky white eyes burning in the back of her mind. "I won't."</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p7">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p5">The motel Marlene was staying at had a strong policy against pets, which she, personally, found quite ridiculous seeing as there was an entirely knew species developing from the well-aged mold in the bathroom of her room.</p><p class="p5">There was, however, no such policy against satanic rituals, which would've made much more sense considering who was staying in this fine establishment. They should've thanked Marlene for not burning it to the ground in the process of making five measly pouches of the "dusts". If you'd ever wondered what would fifteen random ingredients from an obscure Ukranian apothecary look like mixed together, you could rest easy now — what you got was a greenish powder. Marley had distributed it evenly among five small plastic pouches. Good thing it wasn't white.</p><p class="p5">Next on the menu was holy water. Marlene filled up the bathroom sink and put her golden crucifix pendant inside before saying a prayer a total of three times. According to google, that should've done the trick. The holy goodness then went into two water bottles, divinity incapsulated. How quaint.</p><p class="p5">"Making potions in a motel room in Chicago," Marley said, observing her handiwork, "Nice."</p><p class="p5">She was in the middle of cleaning the crime scene when a knock thundered through the room. Was that how drug dealers felt when DEA were about to raid their ass?</p><p class="p5">Wide-eyed, Marlene quickly stuffed everything under the bed, wiped her hands on her, thankfully, dark blue jeans, and opened the door.</p><p class="p5">On second thought, she should've definitely checked the peephole first.</p><p class="p6"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Country roads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 5 / Country roads </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>And the devil, who deceived them, was thrown into the lake of burning sulfur, where the beast and the false prophet had been thrown. They will be tormented day and night for ever and ever.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">— Book of </span>
  <span class="s1">Revelation 20:10</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p3">Marlene instantly pushed against the door to shut it into the demon's muzzle, but the creature had managed to slide a leg through. She3 wasn't strong enough to hold against it, and soon the door flew open again, and Marley backed as far away from the door as possible.</p><p class="p3">The demon hovered in the entrance, taking a languid look around the small motel room while Marlene was glaring daggers at it, her entire body shaking from fear. The dusts she had made were in the bag — she <em>could</em> run towards it and get them if she was quick, but...</p><p class="p3">"Hi," the demon greeted. It was a woman, from what Marlene could tell, in her middle twenties, wearing a leather jacket. She looked very petite, too petite to possess such strength. But then again, she wasn't human, "Sorry for the whole tough act. May I plead my case before you try and fail to kill me? Okay, great."</p><p class="p3">Marley stepped further back when the girl walked inside the room and closed the door. One more nail in the coffin.</p><p class="p3">"I'm Ruby," the demon introduced herself, "And you must be Marlene?"</p><p class="p3">"What do you want?"</p><p class="p3">Ruby's face was contorted with annoyance, "Jesus, why do people always think I have some malicious agenda?"</p><p class="p3">"You're a demon," Marlene deadpanned.</p><p class="p3">"Stereotypes are racist," Ruby's eyes fell on the leftover nachos on the table. She popped one into her mouth, the crunch slicing through in the heavy silence, "I'm here to help you."</p><p class="p3">"How did you find me?"</p><p class="p3">"Oh, sorry, were you trying to be discreet?" the demon mocked haughtily, "I've been following you since Delaware. You really should've stuck with cash, Marley."</p><p class="p3">"Don't call me — "</p><p class="p3">"Look, Lilith is after you and she won't stop until she gets what she wants. And what she <em>wants</em> is to set Lucifer free and deliver you to him on a silver platter, apple in mouth."</p><p class="p3">"And you don't want that to happen?" Marley asked sceptically, eyes narrowed.</p><p class="p3">"As a matter of fact, I don't."</p><p class="p3">She moved a little closer to the bag that was sitting just on the corner of the bed. "And why is that?"</p><p class="p3">"Because I'm happy with the current state of things. I like stability, you know? Plus, you're not the only one the psycho bitch is after," she dipped another nacho chip in the guacamole and ate it.</p><p class="p3">Marlene halted, brows twitching together, "Why would she be after you?"</p><p class="p3">"Oh, well," Ruby drawled nonchalantly, "There's the little matter of my fraternising with the Winchesters. Don't look so shocked, <em>Marley</em>, the boys are quite popular. In fact," she lowered her voice, lips stretching into a smirk, "I can just bet that you're looking for them."</p><p class="p3">Marlene let out a measured breath, willing her heart to stop beating like she was in the middle of a freaking Olympian marathon. She needed to be collected, calculative — the bag was almost within her reach, just a little more stalling...</p><p class="p3">"And I can help you find them," Ruby said, her black eyes wide and burning with passion, "You and Sam together? Hell will quake before your power. None of them stand a chance."</p><p class="p3">Marlene hit the footboard of the bed, "So that's it then," she all but whispered, voice shaking, "you want Lilith dead too?"</p><p class="p3">"Yes," Ruby replied, "She can't break the last seal if she's dead."</p><p class="p3">"Is it even possible?" Marlene turned to face the demon, one of her hands deftly slipping behind into the beg, "To kill <em>her?</em>"</p><p class="p3">"It is. I taught Sam how to do it, and soon he'll be strong enough to take her on," Marley fumbled around in the bag until she felt the sleek surface of a plastic pouch, "I could teach you, too."</p><p class="p3">She fisted it, hand trembling. There was a good chance it wouldn't work, but the only other option was the poorly sanctified water, so the odds weren't really in her favour in any case. Ruby was swanning around the room, all swagger and misplaced confidence. She had Sam Winchester wrapped around her little finger and thought that she could do the same with Marlene, the demonic Mother Theresa.</p><p class="p3">
  <em>Stereotypes my ass. </em>
</p><p class="p3">"You said you could help me find them," Marley managed to say, squeezing the plastic pouch in her palm, "You know where they are?"</p><p class="p3">"I mean I could easily find out. I'm sure Sam's missed me."</p><p class="p3"><em>Ah</em>, Marlene mentally gagged.</p><p class="p3">"Great," she said in a cheerful voice, the slight tremble in it betraying her panic, "T-that's great. Well...if <em>Sam</em> trusts you, I don't see why <em>I</em> can't."</p><p class="p3"><em>Because I'm not an idiot</em>, she thought to herself. And he called himself a hunter? God, men were so easily manipulated, wether it be by women, demons or one in the same. <em>Especially</em> one in the same.</p><p class="p3">Ruby smiled, "Oh, Marley, if everyone was as agreeable as you," she intoned sweetly, "They'd be shitty liars."</p><p class="p3">The demon launched herself forward, caging Marlene at the footboard of the bed before she could dart away. Ruby's mutilated face was so close to hers, Marley had to turn her head to the side just to avoid looking at it.</p><p class="p3">It was then that she felt something sharp pointing at her stomach.</p><p class="p3">"I really hoped we could be friends," Ruby whispered, her mouth curled into a smile that was awfully reminiscent of a snarl, "Would've been nice to have another girl around. <em>Way</em> too much testosterone," she jerked her chin towards Marley's hand, "<em>This</em> is not cool. I'm just trying to help you, okay? Lilith's grunts are out there, waiting to get their hands on you. I'm sure you've seen them, their true faces. Like you now see mine. Do you think I enjoyed it when they turned me into <em>this</em>? When they <em>tortured</em> me?" Ruby seethed, "Lilith will pay for it. They all will," she pushed the blade a little further, making Marlene whimper, "So, drop it, Marley. Drop it or I swear I'll stick this blade right into your heart before you can even think of using whatever girl scout gewgaw you got there."</p><p class="p3">"Al-alright," Marlene stuttered in a broken whisper, feeling the powdery substance spill into her palm, "Alright, just..." slowly, she relaxed her hand...then shot it up to her face and blew the green powder right into Ruby's ugly mug, whispering the short incantation.</p><p class="p3">Marley hadn't known what effect the concoction would have, but <em>boy</em> did it not disappoint. The demon recoiled with a shriek, steam coming off her skin where red, angry ulcers began to bloom. The blade fell out of her hands, and Marlene was able to escape.</p><p class="p3"><em>How?...</em>Frozen with shock, she only came to her senses when Ruby raised her black eyes at her. They screamed bloody murder. "W-what did you do?"</p><p class="p3">Marley stumbled back towards the door, "I'm s-sorry, I..." she grabbed her bag from the bed, snatched the laptop from the table and stormed out of the motel room.</p><p class="p3">"Oh, no, you don't..." Marley heard Ruby growl.</p><p class="p3">She ran faster. The car's headlights flashed in the distance when she unlocked it, the demon's laboured breathing pressing her to quicken her pace. Finally reaching the Toyota, Marley hauled the door open with a panicked glance at Ruby and jumped into the driver's seat.</p><p class="p3">"Come on, come on..." she quickly locked the doors and was about to start the car when the freaking keys fell from her trembling hands. "Fuck!" Marley yelled. She shot a look at Ruby — Ruby she crossing the parking lot, having almost regained her strength.</p><p class="p3">Marlene reached down for the keys and fumbled with them before finally sticking the right one into the ignition switch. The demon was in full sprint now, and with a single look at her pissed off face, Marley slammed on the gas, leaving Ruby behind, in a cloud of dust.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">The I-90 highway stretched for miles, disappearing into the starless abyss of the twilight. Only an occasional street lamp lit the road, the asphalt dark after the pouring rain that had now turned into a slight drizzle. The earthy smell of petrichor was still hanging in the crisp air, refreshing against the quiet night.</p><p class="p3">A red car was stopped in the middle of the deserted road, droplets of rain glimmering like magic dust as the fell down, caught in the headlights. And next to the car stood a girl.</p><p class="p3">She was the only thing disturbing the nocturne idyll.</p><p class="p3">"Castiel!" Marlene yelled for what seemed like a hundredth time. She was pacing circles around her car, head jerked towards the sky, "Castiel! For Christ's sake, why do you angels never show up when I actually need you? Ever thought about changing your provider? Or do you just enjoy the element of surprise?"</p><p class="p3">Marley's Yale sweater was completely soaked through, and the cool night air was doing little to keep her warm. The humidity made her hair a frizzy mess, some strands so wet they hung down her shoulders like icicles. Damn, she should've packed a coat. Oh, wait, they were all back in her apartment. In freaking New-Haven.</p><p class="p3">Cold, helpless and exhausted, Marlene leaned against the hood of her car and sighed, "Look, I had the crappiest day today. And yeah, I know I've been saying it about <em>every</em> day lately, but this one is the runner-up. I...I don't know what I'm doing. <em>God</em>, I'm so out of my depth here, aren't I? By the way, is it okay for me to say "God" like that? He must be just Dad to you. Huh, it's funny," she let out a humourless chuckle, "Gabriel told me that fathers usually suck. Does <em>your</em> father suck? Shit, isn't this blasphemous? Am I going to Hell for this? Oh wait, no, I'm not. Cause I'm going straight to the <em>great unknown</em>," Marley sang out in her best Disney princess voice, "The curse and all, you know? You probably do. All of you winged menaces do. But you're not a menace, are you? Cause if you are, that's a very bad thing I've just told you — " her desperate self-destructive Shakespearean monologue was cut short by the rustle of wings.</p><p class="p3">Marlene whipped around and saw Castiel looking very mysterious under the street lights. He just stood there, unmoving and unspeaking, rain drizzling down his trench coat — good thing they weren't in a park, or pigeons would definitely crap all over him.</p><p class="p3">"Glad you picked up," she spoke first to break the tension. But the angel appeared even more grim than the last time she'd seen him, "So did you talk to them? Talk to Sam Winchester?" Marley pressed, "Because I...I think he's in danger, Castiel. There's a demon — "</p><p class="p3">"I know what you are." Castiel cut her off. His blue eyes bore no trace of kindness as he said it, voice cold and unwavering. He looked uncomfortable.</p><p class="p3">Marley felt herself flinch. "Yeah?" she breathed, looking much calmer than she actually felt. He wouldn't hurt her, would he? "And what is it?"</p><p class="p3">"You are an abomination." The way Castiel said it wasn't malicious or accusatory. He was completely emotionless, simply stating a fact, "Your existence in unnatural. <em>Unholy</em>."</p><p class="p3">Marlene's brows shot up. She huffed out a surprised laugh, "Wow, okay. Is that why you answered my call? Just to, what, get it off your chest?" Panic was slowly crawling up her back, its claws making Marley's hair stand on end, "Or are you here to finish what your friends have started? Because I'm sure it can wait until the world is not on the brink of <em>the Armageddon.</em>"</p><p class="p3">Castiel's shoulders slacked. "You must return home, Marlene. This fight is not yours to fight," he told her impassively, but there was a shadow of hesitation cast over his face. </p><p class="p3">"Does Sam Winchester know?" Castiel stayed silent, looking askance, "<em>Does he know?</em>"</p><p class="p3">"He knows what needs to be done."</p><p class="p3">"What is that supposed to mean?"</p><p class="p3">Castiel was about to answer, but something else snatched his attention. He tilted his head slightly up, face contemplative as though he was receiving a message. A single moment passed before the angel sent Marlene a foreboding look and...disappeared.</p><p class="p3">Marley blinked."Are you kidding me?" she whispered, staring at the now empty spot under the street lamp.</p><p class="p3">Now what?</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p3">
  <b>Des Moines, Iowa</b>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">There were exactly 35 men by the name of Robert Singer in the United States. 10 of them had died in the past twenty years, 2 were in prison, seven hadn't yet reached the majority, and three were 75 or older. Which left 13 perfectly suitable phone numbers and addresses that could just belong to the man Dean Winchester had told her to contact.</p><p class="p3">Marlene was sitting in a small diner, a plate of half-eaten waffles with extra whipped cream and the laptop in front of her. With a martyred sigh, she dialled yet another number only to drone the same opening line. Marley had felt very excited about it the first few times. Now, though, she was becoming increasingly discouraged. And bored.</p><p class="p3">"Hi, is this Robert Singer?" she was doodling a random sigil in her notebook, "Oh, great! Um, Dean Winchester said you could help me — you don't know him? Alright. Well, thanks, have a — " the man hung up. Marlene pursed her lips in annoyance and crossed the number out, "Douchebag," she muttered and sent a piled forkful of waffles into her mouth.</p><p class="p3">Before her lay a list of 13 contacts, twelve of which Marley had successfully discarded. She had put a question mark next to the ninth, though — the phone number was out of service, which was better than a hard 'no' in the best case and a poem of sweet cuss words in the worst. No, Robert Singer from Palo Alto did <em>not</em> know any Dean Winchester.</p><p class="p3">But Marlene had no other leads and nowhere to go, so the mysterious phone number and a possibly nonexistent address sparked a little hope in her. That maybe all of this wasn't for nothing and she would finally meet the infamous Winchesters, warn them about Lilith and smack the younger one on the head for being so stupid. Marley hadn't been in the game for long, but even she knew how foolish it was to trust a demon. But there was something else she couldn't stop thinking about. Ruby'd said that she "<em>taught</em>" Sam how to kill Lilith. Marley was pretty sure there wasn't a crash-course on killing demons, so what had she meant by that?</p><p class="p3">She'd meant to ask Castiel about it, but their conversation hadn't exactly gone as planned. It had left her in a very curious mood, though. Since there was very little to do on the road other than overthink, Marley had spent an entire ride to Des Moines — an absolutely random destination (she had literally pointed to it on the map, eyes closed) — replaying the exchange in her head. The shift in Castiel's entire demeanour had been impossible not to notice. When Marlene first met the angel, he had seemed eager, involved, <em>preoccupied</em>. The previous day, though, he had just looked...resigned. A a feeling Marlene was all too familiar with.</p><p class="p3">"<em>He knows what needs to be done</em>", was Castiel's ominous reply when she'd asked him about Sam. Maybe Marley was paranoid, but that didn't sound all that reassuring. As in,<em> at all</em>.</p><p class="p3">"Anythin' else, sweetheart?" a waitress asked, taking her empty plate away; the waffles had been completely obliterated.</p><p class="p3">"Thank you. Just a check, please."</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>"...The body found near West River, New-Haven, belongs to a Yale University student, Theresa Armitage, 25 years of age..." </em>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">Marlene's head snapped up to the TV and her entire body went numb at what she saw. And what she saw was Tessa smiling at her from the screen in the same photo used in the obituary.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">"<em>Initially ruled as suicide by the police, new details have emerged that suggest the possibility of foul play. According to the New Haven Police Department, signs of struggle were found in the apartment that the victim, Theresa Armitage, shared with her friend, Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, a fellow student.</em>"</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">Marley almost dropped her beg when her graduation photo popped up on the screen. She was smiling at the camera, showing off the hard-earned Bachlor's diploma, her dark hair streaked with blonde highlights.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">"<em>Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan has been reported missing two days ago by a mutual friend, Maddock Roman," </em>Maddock's beardless face appeared on the TV, a picture of an older man appearing next to it, <em>"Nephew of a businessman and politician Richard Roman, head of the Roman Enterprises...</em>"</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">"Maddock, you idiot," Marley muttered. She began hurriedly collecting all her stuff, eyes still glued to the news.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">"<em>Marlene was last spotted at a gas station in Waterloo, Iowa a day ago, wearing a red sweater, blue jeans and a Yale baseball cap...</em>" A pixilated picture from the CCTV cameras was shown, her figure circled with red. It then morphed into the previous graduation photo. "<em>If you have any information regarding the case or Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan and her whereabouts, please contact the New Haven Police Department at...</em>"</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">Marlene threw a ten dollar bill on the table and met the eyes of the waitress. Apparently, she, too, had been watching the news report. The woman looked at the TV, then back at Marley, frozen in confusion.</p><p class="p3">"Thank for your service," Marlene blurted out and rushed out of the diner. She could feel people's curious stares on her, whispers buzzing at the tables.</p><p class="p3">"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered frantically, face hot as she spilled out of the diner and into the empty parking lot. That was bad. Really, really bad. How long had she been on the news? <em>Fucking Maddock</em>. Why did he need to be such a good friend all the time? <em>God</em>, it was scorching hot.</p><p class="p3">Marley took out a toy water gun from her bag. She had bought it at a gas station, having had a sudden bout of enlightenment, and had filled the plastic weapon with holy water. She had figured it would be much easier to use that way. Though it might've looked like she was going to a ten-year-old's pool party.</p><p class="p3">Clutching the gun in her right hand, Marlene swept the parking lot with shrewd eyes, noticing two new arrivals: a blue sedan and a black Chevy truck that was so dirty it looked crusty and grey. She never trusted people driving dirty trucks, a sentiment that was developing right in that very moment.</p><p class="p3">The driver's window was rolled down, and Marlene stepped a little closer to try and catch his reflection in the wing mirror...</p><p class="p3">"Shit," she cussed, noticing the black of his eyes. Thankfully, the demon hadn't noticed her yet, and Marlene started walking to her own car — <em>fast</em> — constantly looking back at the black Chevy. Was that a coincidence? Or had they been on her trail this entire time?</p><p class="p3">"Miss — "</p><p class="p3">Marley raised the gun and pulled the trigger a dozen times before realising that it wasn't a demon. A very wet-faced waitress from the diner was standing before her.</p><p class="p3">Marley flinched from embarrassment, "I'm <em>so</em> sorry..."</p><p class="p3">"T-that's okay," the woman blinked away the water and handed something to Marlene. It was her notebook, "You left this at the table. Thought you'd need it."</p><p class="p3">"Wow, thank you...Again, I'm so sorry for — "</p><p class="p3">The waitress shrugged it off with a smile, "That's alright. It was kind of refreshing, really, what with all the heat."</p><p class="p3">Marley laughed and put the notepad back in the bag, "Thank you so much for taking the trouble."</p><p class="p3">"It's nothin'."</p><p class="p3">She reached to open the door of the car —</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What do we have here, huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The demon Marlene'd spotted in the Chevy truck, a lanky redneck, was closing in on her with a friend by his side, a bulky bearded man in a leather vest, a full sistine chapel tattooed on his bare arms. Struck by panic, Marley glanced at her car and then at Allison. She couldn't just leave her here, "You need to run," she told her. But the waitress's face was impassive, not betraying an ounce of fear.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Don't really see what the whole racket's 'bout," the lanky one sneered looking at Marlene. She shrunk under their malicious, leering stares, cornered like a wounded animal. It took her a moment to remember that she had a weapon.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The bearded demon guffawed when Marley pointed the water gun at them, "Watcha gonna do now, girl? Play Marco Polo?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Marco!" the lanky one yelled out with, cackling.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Polo my ass," his friend grinned, his beady eyes darting to the waitress, "What's with you, dollface? Not enjoyin' our company?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">When he strolled up to Allison, Marlene clutched the gun tighter, aiming it at the demon's face. "Get away from her." she warned.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Watch your mouth," the lanky demon barked, "We can't kill you but there's plenty other ways to have fun, ain't it true, Merle?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You're here for <em>me</em>. Let her go and I'll come with you."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, you'll come with us alright," he drawled with a smug smile, "She ain't gonna live long to see it, though."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The one in the leather vest sneered at Allison, pinning her to the car, "Nothin' to say, huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The waitress' face was completely blank as she stared at the demon. Was she in shock? Marley's hand holding the gun began to tremble. She couldn't allow anyone else to die because of her.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Allison — " she began but was cut off by a sudden burst of light. Quick to react, Marlene shielded her eyes until it was gone and...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The demon's lifeless body fell to the ground, two gaping holes in place of his eyes. The second demon gaped at his friend in shock, then glared at Alisson, preparing to attack. But before he could make another move, Marlene raised her gun and pulled the trigger, showering him with holy water.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The demon screamed out in pain, but was quickly relieved of it by a single touch of Alisson's hand on his face. He landed on the ground with a dull thud. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley gawked at Alisson the waitress, speechless. Eyes wide from shock, she looked at the two bodies with the same gaping holes on their faces. They were most certainly dead. Was she supposed to say thank you or?...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Safe travels, Marlene," Alisson droned, "And remember, God is always watching," her eyes glimmered a bright blue. And then she disappeared with a rustle of wings.</span>
</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p9">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p10">Who was that angel? Why had that angel not killed her on sight? Why had that angel <em>let her go</em>? Just when Marlene was starting to believe they were entirely untrustworthy, one of them comes and... saves her life? Why would she do that?</p><p class="p10">She had seen two men die right in before her eyes. Yes, they were demons, but before that...before, they had a life. A family, maybe, a routine job they hated, an old lady and a bottle of beer waiting for them at home.</p><p class="p10">The waitress had burned their eyes out with a single touch of her hand. Marlene knew angels were powerful — they were <em>angels</em> — but had never let herself wonder exactly how far that power went. She'd never thought of angels as creatures prone to violence. But Marley also supposed that everything she knew about angels no longer applied.</p><p class="p10">Perhaps, they didn't even see it as violence. Alisson's face showed no emotion when she killed those demons. It was what she had to do. A simple task. An order, perhaps. Is that how they viewed the Apocalypse? As something necessary? "Nothing personal, folks, just gonna end the world real quick".</p><p class="p10">Talk about Devine retribution.</p><p class="p10">Marlene decided to turn on the radio — her brain was getting tired of thinking, and that was coming from a Yale graduate student with a 4.0 GPA. No, she would never shut up about that.</p><p class="p10">The Vampire's Weekend's "Oxford Comma" helped Marley get her mind off of things. She rolled down the window to let some fresh air in — the conditioner had died back in Illinois, and Marlene had been suffering from the unbearable heat ever since.</p><p class="p10">The drive to Sioux Falls was the shortest she'd taken so far, and fours hours later Marley was driving past the welcome sign. She was feeling a little nervous — whatever she'd find there would either be a dead end or something Marlene wasn't quite prepared for. The suspense was kind of daunting.</p><p class="p10">Robert Singer from Sioux Falls, South Dakota's mysterious abode was a pain to find. She had to ask for directions every couple of minutes, and none of them were really helpful. Only one man in the area seemed to know what he was talking about. "Bobby's a bit of a hermit," he'd said, "Lives a bit off the beaten track, ya know? 'S got an auto repair shop, hard to miss."</p><p class="p10">It was a little past noon when Marlene arrived at the "SINGER SALVAGE YARD", driving under the big sign. The place was true to its name: it was a junk yard, filled with dozens of cars in varying states of condition, some piled upon each other like the world's worst sandwich. Marley couldn't really decide if it was abandoned or not — this Robert Singer could just be a herder like her father.</p><p class="p10">She parked her car in the clearing and walked towards the front of the blue, two-storey house. It was a bit ramshackle, windows boarded, paint peeling off the wood. But there was a nice-looking car parked right outside of it, and a loaded truck next to it.</p><p class="p10">Marlene walked up to the door and brought her hand to the shabby wood, her heart doing pirouettes with anxiety. After a minute's hesitation, she mustered the courage and finally knocked three times. That was a good amount of knocks. To alert the residents to her presence and yet not to seem bothersome. She didn't want another Robert Singer cussing her to the ends of the world.</p><p class="p10">Marlene heard voices behind the door, shuffling. It sounded like they was arguing. And then the door opened.</p><p class="p10">She could just bet the man standing in the threshold wasn't Bobby Singer. First of all, he looked too hot to have a name like that. Second, Marley recognised his perfectly chiselled features. The only thing missing was a mugshot sign.</p><p class="p10">"Hello, Dean," Marlene greeted, not without sarcasm. The older Winchester just stared at her, mouth slightly agape, looking a little stumped. He was probably trying to place her and failing miserably at it. She cracked a weary smile, "You could've just called me back."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. And So He Spoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 6 / And So He Spoke </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>The dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw a beast coming out of the sea. It had ten horns and seven heads, with ten crowns on its horns, and on each head a blasphemous name.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s2">— Book of </span>
  <span class="s1">Revelation 13:1</span>
</p><hr/><p class="p3">"Who the hell are you?" Dean finally asked. His green eyes were bloodshot, tired. Sad. Marley wondered if something had happened.</p><p class="p3">"Marlene."</p><p class="p3">He quirked a brow, arms crossed. The perfect "growing suspicion" stance. "Marlene who?"</p><p class="p3">"The same Marlene you hung up on. Sorry about you dad, by the way," she added less confrontationally, genuinely sympathetic.</p><p class="p3">He frowned, green eyes narrowed as he stared at her, half sceptical, half mystified. Marlene gave an exhausted sigh with a bored eye-roll, impatiently waiting for Dean to finally recollect their majorly disappointing exchange over his late father's phone.</p><p class="p3">His face lit up with a thought, "Have we?..."</p><p class="p3">"<em>No.</em>"</p><p class="p3">"Who's that, Dean?" a gruff male voice asked from inside the house. An older man walked up to the door, alarm evident on his grim bearded face. It was gone, though, as soon as he spotted Marlene who stood mere 5'4 before them. "What're ya doing here, girl?"</p><p class="p3">"You're Robert Singer, aren't you?" she surmised. Yes, that was about right; the baseball cap and the whole lumberjack in the wild aesthetic.</p><p class="p3">"Only when I'm in trouble," the man grumbled, "Now what's your business?"</p><p class="p3">"It's about Lilith."</p><p class="p3">Dean's frown deepened, his whole stance becoming rigid. There was something guarded yet somehow vulnerable in the look on his face.</p><p class="p3">"There's something you need to know."</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p3">The room was enveloped in complete silence. It was some kind of a library or a study that reminded Marlene of her father. It smelled of old paper and whiskey, a bit stuffy but endearingly cozy, the lighting dim and intimate. Bobby Singer was definitely a hoarder, judging by the mountains of books on every corner and all sorts of weird-looking trinkets scattered around.</p><p class="p3">Marlene sat on the couch, hands folded demurely like she was a Victorian lady at high tea. Her eyes danced between Dean and Bobby, waiting for some kind of a reaction after she'd told them her life's story. Omitting some facts, of course.</p><p class="p3">Bobby looked mildly curious, if not a little sceptical. The Winchester stood leaning against the desk, a perpetual frown etched into his chiseled features, "Heaven on Earth? What kind of crap is that?"</p><p class="p3">"Take it up with God's marketing department," Marlene quipped.</p><p class="p3">"So yer saying Lilith <em>is</em> the last seal?"</p><p class="p3">She gave a single nod, "Yes."</p><p class="p3">"And that the angels want those two idjits to kill her and set Lucifer free because <em>God</em> told them to?"</p><p class="p3">"Pretty much, yes."</p><p class="p3">"And you just expect us to believe that?" Dean finally spoke, "You show up here with all the answers in the middle of this shitstorm like freakin' Mary Poppins. Excuse me, but I find it a little too good to be true."</p><p class="p3">Marlene cut him a glare, "Maybe if you hadn't hung up on me, there would be no shitstorm to begin with," she snapped, "I left my home, my <em>family</em> to find you before you did something stupid. Like, I dunno, rub shoulders and god knows what else with a <em>demon</em>?"</p><p class="p3">Bobby frowned at her, "What do ya mean?"</p><p class="p3">"I'm talking about your brother's demonic wet dream," Marley turned to Dead, "Ruby."</p><p class="p3">His brows flew up, "<em>Ru </em>— ?" he broke off, overflown with anger and then said to Bobby, "God, I <em>knew</em> it."</p><p class="p3">"I thought you didn't believe me?" Marley raised a single challenging brow.</p><p class="p3">"Doesn't matter," Dean crossed his arms, regaining his haughtiness, "She's still a scheming little bitch."</p><p class="p3">Marlene considered it for a moment and nodded. "Scheming bitch is about right. She tracked me down and started talking some nonsense about killing Lilith and how she'd been teaching Sam how to do it. Thought I'd eat that shit ruse right up."</p><p class="p3">"And you didn't because you heard Zachariah gossip with your father while they braided each other's hair<em>?</em>" Dean asked skeptically, meeting Marley's glare with a tight smile, "Sorry, just wanted to clear up some detailes."</p><p class="p3">
  <em>What an asshole.</em>
</p><p class="p3">Marlene heaved out a sigh, "I'm telling <em>the truth </em>— "</p><p class="p3">"You gotta understand, girl, it ain't lookin' too good from where we sittin'," said Bobby, "You telling us not to kill Lilith could very well be a gambit."</p><p class="p3">"Your dad is working working with the bastards, you said so yourself. And if they want the world to go kaboom —"</p><p class="p3">"It's not a partnership," Marley cut him off defensively, "My father would never agree to somethinglike this if he had a choice." <em>At least I hope so</em>.</p><p class="p3">"Yeah, we don't know that."</p><p class="p3">"Lilith killed my <em>friend</em>. I had to run away and leave behind everything I knew, my entire <em>life</em>, " Marley looked at Dean and then at Bobby, exhausted, "The only person I've left has been brainwashed into submission by <em>angels</em>. For whatever reason that might be," she muttered to herself, "Until two weeks ago, I didn't even know any of this crap existed. And now they want to wipe out half of humanity to have themselves a clear canvas to shit upon. <em>Why</em> would I want that to happen? Why would anyone?"</p><p class="p3">She could see the slight change in Dean's demeanour. He tightened his jaw, muscles playing as he considered her words with a healthy amount of scepticism. "Alright. Let's suppose you're telling the truth. How did you manage to get away from Lilith?"</p><p class="p3">"I, uh, I hurled a toaster at her and...ran away."</p><p class="p3">Dean exchanged a look with Bobby. The older man shrugged. Dean sighed, pursed his lips and tuned back to Marlene, "And Ruby?"</p><p class="p3">"Oh," Marley reached for her bag. The two men tensed with apprehension, "Jesus, <em>relax</em>," she rolled her eyes and took out the remaining pouches of the green dust, "I used this."</p><p class="p3">Bobby took the plastic bag from her hands and inspected it, "What the living hell is this?" He passed it to Dean.</p><p class="p3">"I don't...I don't really know," Marley shrugged, "I found the recipe in my father's journal. Pretty sure it's supposed to kill a demon, but I must've done something wrong. Only ruffled her feathers a bit," she sounded very disgruntled about it.</p><p class="p3">"Was your father a witch or somethin'?" Bobby asked.</p><p class="p3">"No — "</p><p class="p3">"Sure looks witchy to me," Dean muttered.</p><p class="p3">"He <em>wasn't</em> a witch," Marlene levelled a frustrated look at him, "Look, I wouldn't even be here if a certain friendly neighbourhood angel had done his job."</p><p class="p3">"What <em>angel?</em>" the Winchester asked as if he was humouring her.</p><p class="p3">"He called himself Castiel," she replied, "He's the one who was supposed to give you the memo, not me. But I guess he had better things to do."</p><p class="p3">Dean didn't look quite so smug anymore, "Castiel?"</p><p class="p3">"Yes," Marley confirmed like it was perfectly obvious, "Trench coat? Abercrombie hair?"</p><p class="p3">A million thoughts seemed to be passing through Dean's mind. And then his face went slack with realisation, "That son of a bitch," he greeted out and looked at Bobby. The two of them had obviously come to the same conclusion.</p><p class="p3">"What is it?" Marley asked.</p><p class="p3">She watched as Dean paced the room, a murderous expression on his face, "I'm gonna kill the bastard...Castiel!"</p><p class="p3">"Dean, — "</p><p class="p3">"No, Bobby, you know what he did," Dean snapped, "It all adds up. Guess Dora there's telling the truth after all. Castiel, you cowardly piece of shit!" he yelled at the ceiling, "Get your holy ass — "</p><p class="p3">And just like that, Dean vanished.</p><p class="p3">Marlene blinked and he...he wasn't there anymore.</p><p class="p3">"Bolls." Bobby muttered.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p3">Dean found himself in a spacious, light room that was decidedly <em>not</em> Bobby's house. It looked like a freaking museum, with gold trims everywhere and weird-ass pastoral paintings hanging around the walls.</p><p class="p3">"Hello, Dean."</p><p class="p3">He whipped around at the familiar voice, confusion quickly morphing into anger. "The hell is this, Cas?"</p><p class="p3">"It's almost time," the angel told him ominously.</p><p class="p3">"Time for — " Castiel disappeared. Dean sighed in resigned annoyance — wasn't the first time <em>that</em> happened.</p><p class="p3">Bored and on edge, he decided to poke around the room a little. He looked at the paintings, but those didn't hold his attention for long. Especially not when he noticed a platter of white castle burgers and bowl filled with iced bear on the marble table. Those hadn't been there before.</p><p class="p3">Intrigued and a little tempted, Dean made sure he was alone before grabbing a bottle. It was one of his favourites, how —</p><p class="p3">"Hello, Dean," Zachariah greeted. God, how he wanted to beat that shit-eating grin off that smug angelic face, "You're looking fit."</p><p class="p3">Dean scoffed and put the bottle of bear back in the bowl. He didn't appear particularly surprised — he had seen it coming. If anything, he was disappointed. And Castiel could certainly tell. He was looking straight ahead, unable to meet Dean's eyes, face blank. "Well, how about this," Dean drawled, "The Suit Life of Zack and Cass."</p><p class="p3">Zachariah didn't seem to get the reference. Castiel was wearing the same frown of confusion. "It's a — " Dean began to explain but quickly decided it wasn't worth the effort. "Never mind," he sighed, "<span class="s3">So, what is this? Where the hell am I?</span></p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Call it a Green room," Zachariah walked up to the table and spread his arms, "We're closing in on the grand finale here. We want to keep you safe before showtime," he grabbed a white castle from the whole pile of them, "Try a burger. They're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware," Dean stared at him, brows furrowed, "You were 11, I think?'</span>
</p><p class="p3">He eyed the offering with indifference — never had he wanted a burger less, "I'm not hungry."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1">No? How about.. Ginger from season 2 of "Gilligan's Island"? Zachariah seemed awfully eager to please Dean.<em> That narcissistic kiss-ass</em>, "You do have a thing for her, don't you?"</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s3">Dean considered it for a moment. Yeah, that'd certainly be nice. She <em>did</em> have that sexy mole that...</span>"Tempting," he allowed but then checked himself, remembering the whole reason he was stuck in that creepy ass room. He frowned, "Weird."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"We'll throw in Mary Ann for free </span>
  <span class="s2">— "</span>
</p><p class="p3">"Cut the crap, Chuckles," Dean said gruffly, fed up with the theatrics. Zachariah broke off, the freakishly genial smile frozen on his face, "I know what your endgame is."</p><p class="p3">Castiel's impassive face betrayed a flicker of apprehension.</p><p class="p3">"Oh, really? And what might that be?"</p><p class="p3">"Heaven on Earth?" Dean all but growled at him, the look in his eyes ferocious, "Wiping the slate clean, pushing the restart button?"</p><p class="p3">Zachariah stayed silent, humouring his little speech with an amused expression. Standing behind his superior, Castiel lowered his eyes.</p><p class="p3">"You don't want to stop the Apocalypse. You never did, did you?" Dean said in a dangerously low voice, eyes turning into slits, "No, you <em>want</em> it to happen."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s2">Zachariah's smile stretched even wider, something manic glimmering in his eyes. He sat down into a gold-trimmed couch and folded his hands, "</span>
  <span class="s1">Yup," he popped casually, "Guess the cat is out of the bag now, huh? The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you," the angel's expression turned thoughtful for a moment, "But I have to ask... how <em>did</em> you figure it out? I thought Sam was the brains of the family."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean cut him a glare, nostrils flaring from a silent, simmering anger. Zachariah's face lit up as he was struck by an epiphany, "<em>Ah</em>, so you've <em>met</em> her? The eavesdropping midget."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Is that supposed to mean something?" Dean asked, feigning confusion. It turned out the girl had been right about everything, damn it. He wasn't used to people telling the truth. Not when his own brother had been lying straight to his face and gallivanting around with that demonic bitch behind his back. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Castiel?" Zachariah suddenly ordered. Castiel looked at Dean, his expression full of guilt, and disappeared. <em>What the hell </em></span>
  <span class="s4">
    
  </span>
  <span class="s5">
    <em>—</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s4">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, Dean, Dean," Zachariah sighed and rose from the couch, "I've had my eye on the little miss Bennington from the moment she stepped out of her house in Cambridge. Did you really think I didn't know about her little road trip?" he smiled, "Isn't she a delight? Bright, stubborn, idealistic. I suppose that runs in the family, doesn't it?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Wary, Dean watched as the angel walked up to one of the paintings. It was an impressive canvas depicting a golden-haired angel pinning Lucifer to the ground with a spear raised in the air.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Lucifer, God's favourite son and his greatest disappointment," Zachariah said almost wistfully, gazing up at the painting, "You know, a lot of us actually liked the guy. But he was too reckless, went the wrong way about the whole thing. His plan lacked a certain...finesse if you <em>catch my drift</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Let me guess," Dean said gruffly, looking at him askance, "You were one of the groupies?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, I watched. And I <em>learned</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Dean cleared his throat and muttered, "Whatever tickles your wings."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Lucifer was the first to screw up, naturally," Zachariah continued, "Dad got angry, gave him a spanking </span>
  <span class="s2">— you know how the story goes. Gabriel, though...little Gabriel </span>
  <span class="s1">had always looked up to the Morning Star." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Dean's brows twitched together in bafflement, "What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, there's something you <em>don't</em> know? Now <em>that's</em> a surprise."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"You know, I am so sick of your crap riddles and your smug, fat face," Dean rumbled, his patience rapidly slipping, "Start talking or I'm leaving." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Sure you are," the angel patronised with a saccharine smile. Dean huffed out an annoyed breath, "See, Gabriel was impatient too. Heaven didn't feel right to him without his older brother, and so he left. Everyone was pissed, especially Michael," Zachariah said, "No one knew where he'd gone, he was impossible to find. Until one day he went and knocked up a human whore."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Now <em>that</em> Dean didn't expect to hear. He blinked slowly, then cleared his throat. His brows shot up, "He did...what now?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sure you know how it works, Dean," Zachariah sneered.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Gabriel had a<em> kid?</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"If that's what you want to call it. We've been cleaning up his mess ever since." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Dean's frown deepened as he was trying to process this information, "What's that Rosmary's baby crap have to do with this?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, you'll see. I don't want to put <em>all</em> the cards on the table just yet," Zachariah gave him a meaningful look, "Everyone has a part to play in this," he said, "Even you. Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still vital, Dean. We weren't lying about your destiny. Just... omitted a few pertinent details. But nothing's changed. You are chosen. You will stop it. Just... not Lilith, or the apocalypse. That's all.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Which means?" Dean asked curtly. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah gestured to the painting as if the clue had been there all along, "Lucifer. You're going to stop Lucifer. You're our own little Russell Crowe, complete with surly attitude. And when it's over... and when you've won... your rewards will be... unimaginable. Peace, happiness...two virgins and seventy sluts," he let out a slightly deranged chuckle, "Trust me </span>
  <span class="s2">—</span>
  <span class="s1"> one day, we'll look back on this and laugh."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"What was all that crap about saving seals, then?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Simple staff management," Zachariah shrugged, "Our grunts on the ground </span>
  <span class="s2">— </span>
  <span class="s1">we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands," he said, "I mean, come on, think about it. Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"But why?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Why not? The apocalypse? Poor name, bad marketing </span>
  <span class="s2">— </span>
  <span class="s1">puts people off. When all it is is Ali/Foreman. On a... slightly larger scale," Zachariah smirked, "And we like our chances. When our side wins </span>
  <span class="s2">— </span>
  <span class="s1">and we <em>will</em> </span>
  <span class="s2">—</span>
  <span class="s1"> it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"How about the people that will die during your little pissing contest, huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Well... you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs," Zachariah shrugged off, "In this case... truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look...it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered," Zachariah said and noticed Dean eyeing a statue on a mantelpiece, "Uh, no, Dean. Probably shouldn't try to bash my skull in with that thing. Wouldn't end up too pleasant for you."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Dean's hands curled into fists from the growing, pent up fury, "What about Sam?" he asked, "He won't go quietly. He'll stop Lilith."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Sam..." Zachariah sighed, contemplative, "...has a part to play. A very important part. He may need... a little <em>nudging</em> in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it," he said, well-pleased. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Dean tensed. His brother was alone out there, confused and angry, with only a self-serving demon to keep him company. He took a dangerous step forward, "What does that mean?" he demanded, "What are you gonna do to him?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah rolled his eyes, "Sam, Sam, Sam. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. Forget about him, will you?" he told Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You have larger concerns. We need you concentrated. <em>Strong.</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p9"><span class="s3">Dean thought back to all those times he'd caught Sam praying when their father was away. He'd never believed in some almighty power himself </span>— Dean hated the thought of someone being in control of his fate, not when his entire life had been practically decided by his father. At least that way, he had a sense of freedom. Maybe it was nothing, but that nothing had kept him going all these years.</p><p class="p9">Though he was starting to believe that none of them had ever been free at all. And probably never would be.</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1"> "Tell me something," he said quietly, "Where's God in all this?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">A foreboding silence settled over the chilling room. "God?" Zachariah finally spoke, his face unreadable. "God has left the building."</span>
</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p11">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p9">"W...where did he go?" Marlene spluttered, stumped, staring at the spot where Dean Winchester had been threatening to kill an angel a moment ago.</p><p class="p9">"Damned if I know," Bobby grumbled. And shuffled out of the room. Marley gaped at him in frustrated confusion.</p><p class="p9">"Aren’t we gonna do something?" she asked, trudging into the adjacent kitchen after the old man.</p><p class="p9">Bobby looked back at her rather reluctantly, taking a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard, "Somethin’ like what?"</p><p class="p9">"G-go look for Dean, find his brother, try to locate Lilith — "</p><p class="p9">"It ain’t gonna do jack, girl," Bobby poured himself a glass, "So we find the demonic bitch, what then? You gonna sprinkle some of that fairy dust on her?"</p><p class="p9">Marley opened her mouth to reply but then closed it, brows twitching together. Her father's stupid concoction hadn't even taken out a basic demon. It would probably give Lilith, the mother hen, a sneeze or two.</p><p class="p9">Her drive for retribution and supernatural warfare quickly deflated.</p><p class="p9">"Now do you want some whiskey?" Bobby asked.</p><p class="p9">Marley eyed the bottle, frown deepening. There was really very little to be done at that point. She just hoped that Dean would be able to use the information she’d given him to their advantage. She sighed. "Do you have wine?"</p><p class="p9">Bobby looked at her sideways, "Want some caviar with that too?"</p><p class="p9">Marlene flushed at the obvious sarcasm and accepted the glass. She took a sip and flinched — yup, that was strong.</p><p class="p9">"This is a nice house," she managed to say, or rather croak out, her throat still tingling from the moonshine.</p><p class="p9">"Would you like a tour?"</p><p class="p9">Marlene looked at the old man, not sure whether it was another sarcastic jab or a real question. She stayed silent for awhile, then narrowed her eyes, still unable to decide. Bobby looked at her askance and sat down at the table with a sigh.</p><p class="p9">Yes, it had certainly been a sarcastic jab.</p><p class="p9">Marley lowered herself into a chair. "So do you have any idea where...the other one is?"</p><p class="p9">"Who, Sam? Hell no," Bobby downed the rest of the drink. He didn't even blink, "When that boy wants to get lost, he makes damn sure he stays that way. Dean's the only one who could find him, but he ain't gonna do it. Especially now."</p><p class="p9">"Why...why won't he do it?"</p><p class="p9">"'Cause he's a stubborn idjit, that's why. The both of them. Just like their daddy," Bobby grumbled.</p><p class="p9">Oh, the elusive John Winchester from her father's journal. Marlene remembered Arthur describing him as ruthless, cold and manipulative, the man who got the job done, who would do anything for his family — the man Arthur so longed to become. <em>Careful what you wish for</em>.</p><p class="p9">"What happened to him?" Marley asked.</p><p class="p9">Bobby gave her a hard, loaded look, "A hunting accident."</p><p class="p9">"Must've been one hell of a hunt. If you listen to my father, John Winchester was a tough man to put down. I..." Marley broke off, a bit unsettled by Bobby's undivided attention. She couldn't quite decide if he was mad at her or if he was just perpetually grumpy, "I read about him in the journal. M-my father's journal. Apparently, they knew each other. Here."</p><p class="p9">Marlene made her way to the bag she'd left in the library and returned with Arthur's little diary. Had he noticed it was gone? Was he looking for it? Was he worried that all his secrets were now out in the open? <em>For the greater good my ass</em>.</p><p class="p9">"Honestly, sometimes I wish my dad had a secret family or something," Marley mumbled, opening the journal on the page with the photo of her, Dean and his little brother, "Because the stuff in here...is <em>disturbing</em>."</p><p class="p9">Bobby took a look at the picture, "When was it taken?"</p><p class="p9">"'91, think it was Halloween."</p><p class="p9">"Huh."</p><p class="p9">"What?" Marley asked.</p><p class="p9">"Nothin'" Bobby shook his head, a wistful expression creeping over his face as he flipped through the journal, "The world is just too damn small sometimes."</p><p class="p9">"Too small to fit angels and demons, that's for sure," she took a big gulp of the whiskey. Without coughing this time. Though she <em>did</em> squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to fight the burn.</p><p class="p9">"You got any other family?"</p><p class="p9">"No," Marley replied, voice sombr. She stared at the amber liquid in the glass and worried her lip before adding absently, "It's just me and my dad."</p><p class="p9">A beat of silence passed between them before Bobby spoke again in a strangely grave voice, "Did your mother happen to die in a fire?"</p><p class="p9">Marlene looked at him with a frown, "What? N-no...she — she died when I was born. Why?"</p><p class="p9">Bobby put the journal on the desk, "Look familiar?"</p><p class="p9">Bright yellow eyes stared at her from the aged pages. Sketches of them filled an entire spread, all in different shapes and sizes but equally malicious and unsettling. Her father had been obsessed with the long faded image of the demon — Marlene had read most of his notes and stories. And the pain they were filled with brought tears to her eyes.</p><p class="p9">Tears of anger, tears of regret, tears of mourning. That journal was a testament of her father's rapidly growing insanity to which Marley had been blind all those years. Perhaps, she had never even known the real Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan. Perhaps, that man had died 22 years ago —</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p9">
  <em>"He is like you, Marlene."</em>
</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p9"><em>"They were targeted by the demon.</em> <em>Like you."</em></p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p9">22 years...</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p9">"That's how Azazel killed their mother?" Marlene concluded quietly.</p><p class="p9">Bobby nodded, "Their father'd been hellbent on hunting that bastard down ever since."</p><p class="p9">"And died killing him?"</p><p class="p9">"No, John died saving his sons," he said, "There ain't no better way to go if you ask me."</p><p class="p9">Marley pursed her lips into a tight smile, "Yes. He does sound like a great man."</p><p class="p9">"Yeah," Bobby drawled somewhat sarcastically, "A great man."</p><p class="p9">Something told her there was one hell of a story between the two, but she didn't want to ask too many questions. The man seemed suspicious enough as it was, so Marlene had to tread carefully, even though she was dying for information.</p><p class="p9">She took another sip of the whiskey.</p><p class="p9">"You've got demon blood in you too, don't ya?"</p><p class="p9">Marley almost choked, "S-sorry?"</p><p class="p9">"You ever drink it?"</p><p class="p9">She swallowed the whiskey, disgust morphing into a wince melting into confusion, "Why on <em>Earth</em> would I do that?"</p><p class="p9">Bobby was about to reply to that very reasonable question but his attention was snatched by something behind Marlene. Judging by the suddenly murderous look on the man's face, it wasn't a welcome sight.</p><p class="p8">"What the hell did you do? <span class="s2">"</span> Bobby growled, rising from his seat. Marley whipped around, which was a bad idea. Whiskey had never been her drink of choice. She became even more dizzy when she spotted the walking and talking trench coat.</p><p class="p8">Castiel pointedly ignored Bobby, his intense blue eyes fixed on Marlene, <span class="s2">"</span>You must come with me.<span class="s2">"</span></p><p class="p8"><span class="s2">"</span>Well, hi there, Friar John," she drawled, "I reckon you didn’t deliver the message. What was it, <em>unhappy fortune?</em><span class="s2">"</span></p><p class="p8">The angel looked away, his face growing tense.</p><p class="p8"><span class="s2">"</span>Where’d you take Dean?<span class="s2">"</span> Bobby asked gruffly.</p><p class="p8"><span class="s2">"</span>Dean is safe,<span class="s2">"</span> Castiel replied, his voice almost pleading. As though he was trying to atone for what he’d done, <span class="s2">"</span>And you must be as well,<span class="s2">"</span> he told Marlene.</p><p class="p9">She heard him alright, but had no intention of listening, "And how do you intend to <em>save me</em>? Sorry, but I've become rather disillusioned with the idea of heavenly salvation as of the past couple of weeks."</p><p class="p9">Castiel breathed an frustrated sigh, "There is no time to waste — "</p><p class="p9">"Damn right there isn't," Bobby cut in, "So how about we do somethin' about it?"</p><p class="p9">The angel seemed perplexed, "I don't know what you mean."</p><p class="p9">"Were you lying to me?" Marlene asked suddenly, "When you said you'd warn them, was that some twisted angelic manipulation trick?"</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Castiel appeared wounded by such an assumption, "No. I do not tell lies." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Only when it suits you, it seems."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Marlene, you <em>must</em> come with me." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"How about you flap your wings and get the hell out of here?" Bobby stepped forward. Castiel shuffled on his feet, his face contorted with indecision. He clearly didn't want to hurt anyone, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to. Marley remembered the angel from the diner in Des Moines. And the burning holes she'd left in those men's heads. All it took was a single touch. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Why are you doing this?" she wondered, genuinely curious. Castiel's eyes flashed to her, "You can't honestly justify it."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"We are heeding God's will, there needn't be any reason but His word," the angel replied sombrely. It sounded monotonous, rehearsed.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"That ain't God's will," said Bobby, eyes narrowed, "That's genocide." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marley looked at the angel pleadingly, "Castiel, there's still time to make it right, to stop them. If you would just </span>
  <span class="s2">— "</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"This <em>is</em> making it right," Castiel insisted, a slight waver of hesitation in his voice, "It is long foretold."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Bobby huffed, "That's horseshit and you know it." </span>
</p><p class="p9"><span class="s3">"This world, <em>people</em> </span>— you are past saving. God has given you every chance to prosper but all you do is destroy and hate," the angel spoke with a fever that made him stop for a moment to check himself, "Still, he offers you a chance for a new beginning. A life free of pain and worry in his kingdom..."</p><p class="p9">"How very generous of him," Marley scoffed.</p><p class="p9">"...Even for you, Marlene," Castiel told her solemnly, "And your father."</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">That's when it all came together. Arthur would have never been part of this unless...<em>Huh</em>, Marlene thought to herself. So that was his plan? Sacrificing thousands of lives for a one-way ticket to heaven? There was nothing that could've justified his involvement in the Armageddon, but this...</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"How much was it?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Castiel tilted his head, looking at her in confusion, "There have been no transactions, Marlene." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She heaved a measured, calming breath, "What did my father have to offer? It's gotta be something good, right? Stairway to Heaven and all that, can't be cheap."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"What the living hell are you talkin' about, girl?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I think that's a story for another glass of whiskey, Mr Singer," Marley flashed him a momentous smile that dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. "So?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Castiel looked down, "I don't know."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Of course you don't," Marlene murmured, "Where are you going to take me?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Back home," the angel replied dutifully. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She sighed and muttered, "Where is home, anyway."</span>
</p><p class="p9"><span class="s3">"It is in Cambridge, Massachusetts where your </span>— " Castiel broke off under her levelled stare. It wasn't a question.</p><p class="p9">"My father's bidding, I presume?"</p><p class="p9">"What the hell <em>is</em> your father?" Bobby wondered, disgruntled. </p><p class="p9">Marley shrugged and picked up her bag from the dusty floor, "I suppose I'm about to find out."</p><p class="p9">"Oh no, you ain't going nowhere, girl. I still don't know jack about that daddy of yours and what he's doin' knocking about with those assholes. It's gonna take more than a little soap story to get me to trust you, and I sure as hell don't trust <em>him</em>," Bobby looked at Castiel askance, "So you gotta stay where I can see ya."</p><p class="p9">"I'm sorry, Mr Singer," Marley gave him a solemn look full of determination, "I promise I'll try — "</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p9">" — what the hell?" she glared at the angel. They were now standing in the driveway of the very familiar two-storey house.</p><p class="p9">"I apologise. He was indending to use a firearm..."</p><p class="p9">"He wouldn't have shot me. He could've shot <em>you</em>, though, but you deserve it."</p><p class="p9">Castiel said nothing, just standing there awkwardly. What was he going to do now that the package'd been delivered?</p><p class="p9">"Not even going to come in?" Marley asked, quirking a sceptical brow.</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">The angel looked up at the house that was covered in glowing sigils, "I cannot." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She followed his eyes, remembering Arthur's words. No angel could penetrate its walls unless summoned. </span>
</p><p class="p9"><span class="s3">So this was it </span>— the great leap into the unknown. Or rather into the pool of lies and treachery, the quicksand that would swallow her whole in a matter of seconds. The house that had once been her safe haven could very well be her doom.</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"There was this professor," Marley spoke after a moment of silence, drawing Castiel's attention, "Mr Henryk, he taught Philosophy. He once said that...there is a difference between being afraid and being a coward. Fear...well, according to him, fear is just a path you tread until you find yourself at a crossroads. The path splits in two, and you're faced with a decision that, essentially, determines what you are </span>
  <span class="s2">— afraid or a coward." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"And how is it...determined?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Pretty easy, really," Marlene replied and turned to face the angel. He seemed deeply engrossed,"See, you can show that fear who's the boss and make it your own. Doesn't matter if you succeed or not </span>
  <span class="s2">— there's still courage in that. </span>
  <span class="s1">Or...you can take the easy way and choose to succumb to and call it foretelling."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Castiel looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"There will always be a reason to choose the latter, grasping at straws, trying to excuse yourself," Marlene took a deep breath, looking up at the lit up window of her father's study, "Those who lack the courage will always find a philosophy to justify it." </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Lost Man and The Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 7 / The Lost Man and The Stars</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all law-breakers.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p2">— Matthew<span class="s2"> 13:41</span></p><hr/><p class="p4">The same house. The same scent. The same photographs: childhood, graduation, her parents' wedding. The same creaky stair, the same corridor, the same silence. It's funny how things change under a different light.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">The same man, sitting in the same chair in his study, doing what he had always done. Marlene couldn't help but think about that quote by Heraclitus <em>"</em></span>
  <span class="s1"><em>No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man"</em>. This place didn't feel like the home she used to know anymore. And Marlene didn't feel like the same girl who had come here looking for answers. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She could tell that it was not the same for Arthur either. He looked withered, clothes far from the pristine condition they usually were, dark circles marring his already ashen face. He looked like a shell of the man Marlene remembered and never really knew.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It wasn't immediately that he noticed her standing there. But when Arthur sensed a presence and looked to the door, his face lit up. He raised from the chair and made to envelop his daughter in a hug, but she stepped back, flinching. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Arthur's face fell, but he tried to mask it. It turned out he was very good at it; hiding things. </span>
  <span class="s2"> "I'm so glad you're back."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley held back a scoff, "Don't act so surprised."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But somehow he did, and if she didn't know better, she'd think it was genuine. "What matters is that you're safe now. Marley </span>
  <span class="s4">— " </span>
</p><p class="p7">"<em>Safe?</em>" she all but yelled, incredulous at his sheer ignorance, "What the hell is wrong with you, dad?! <em>No</em> one is safe, not when the freaking Apocalypse is next in line in the shitshow that <em>you</em> helped set up!"</p><p class="p7">That did well to stump him. Marlene knew all of his little secrets now. He had no lies left to cover them up anymore. Arthur ran a hand over his face with a heavy sigh. "I did what needed to be done in order to protect my family."</p><p class="p7">"What did you do?" Marlene asked, solemn.</p><p class="p7">"You needn't — "</p><p class="p7">"What did you <em>do</em>, dad?" she pressed harder, voice cold and firm.</p><p class="p7">Arthur looked away, "I gave them what they needed."</p><p class="p7">"Which was what? What on earth could they possibly want from <em>you?</em>"</p><p class="p7">He lowered his eyes and walked towards the window, tuning his back to Marlene. She watched him like a hawk, her breathing rapid from the adrenalin pumping in her veins. She'd never talked to her father this way. Never even raised her voice at him. Never even had a reason too.</p><p class="p7">Well, things had definitely escalated quickly.</p><p class="p7">"They didn't want to get involved. The angels. Zachariah," Arthur spoke quietly, "He said that all it took was the one tile, and the rest would tumble down in the aftermath. A little push to set thing into motion." He turned around and finally looked at Marlene. She was still standing in the threshold, arms crossed, "It was Lilith."</p><p class="p7">Marley frowned, "I don't understand..."</p><p class="p7">"I gave them the key to unlocking Lilith's cage," Arthur said gravely.</p><p class="p7">It didn't register at first. How could it, when up until recently, her father had been just a university professor whose only pain in the ass were ill-researched essays?</p><p class="p7">But then it did register. And Marlene's eyes went wide with disbelief,"I'm sorry, <em>what? You</em> let her out? Dad..." she said quietly, "She...she killed Tessa... "</p><p class="p7">"And I am so, <em>so</em> sorry it happened — " Arthur came over to her, pain-stricken to see his daughter so hurt, but she stepped away, burning him with a look so resentful, he flinched.</p><p class="p7">"I can't even look at you ," she seethed and stumbled back into the hallway, "You're...I — I can't be here. I'm leaving."</p><p class="p7">"Marlene!" Arthur called. He caught up to her in the living room — the place filled with false memories that promised a future that would never come, "I did it to protect you!" he screamed.</p><p class="p7">Marley whipped around, glare murderous, "Protect me how exactly? Last I checked, she almost killed me too and this entire planet was going 4<span class="s5"><sup>th</sup></span> of July real fast real soon, dad. And <em>you</em> —" she pointed a furious finger at him, " — lit the freaking fireworks."</p><p class="p7">"Lilith <em>had</em> to be freed for the prophecy to come forth!" he sounded like a madman.</p><p class="p7">Marley growled from frustration, "I am so tired of hearing about this damned prophecy! Do you really believe God would want to destroy all that he created?"</p><p class="p7">Arthur's face turned reverent, "What he takes, he gives back tenfold."</p><p class="p7">"Is that what you say when you knock at people's doors and preach for them to join God's Kingdom?"</p><p class="p7">"Do you always have to make a joke out of everything?"</p><p class="p7">"Oh, is there another way you'd have me coping with Armageddon, <em>dad?</em>"</p><p class="p7">Arthur sighed and spoke, softly this time, "Marlene, this is the only chance to break the circle of suffering in our family. This is how it ends."</p><p class="p7">"No," Marley shook her head, "This is how we <em>die</em>, dad."</p><p class="p7">"We can finally join your mother..." the desperate pleading in Arthur's voice made her consider it, just for a split second. It was a chance for a second life, the one she had always dreamed of as a kid. One where she had a mother. Where she didn't cry herself to sleep because she'd never know what it felt like to have one.</p><p class="p7">But those were just dreams. And the people who'd lose their lives were very much real.</p><p class="p7">"Are you really ready to let millions die for that?"</p><p class="p7">Arthur seemed a little abashed by the question. Clearly, he didn't like to think about the consequences of his selfish designs, "There wouldn't be millions, Zachariah — "</p><p class="p7">"— is an angel who wants to free Satan. I wouldn't put my trust in him."</p><p class="p7">Arthur looked tormented, ripped apart by his doubts. <em>Good</em>, Marley thought.</p><p class="p7">"What was that key, dad? Was it...was it something in the Bible? Like a clue?" He paced the room, running a hand through his greying, messy hair. "Did you have to crack some kind of code or...or give them a location? What was it?"</p><p class="p7">"Lilith's cage wasn't as elaborate as Lucifer's," Arthur finally said, "No seals, just keys. Three of them."</p><p class="p7">"Three?" </p><p class="p7">"Blood of a demon, blood of an angel and...and blood of the maker. The first two were easy to come by, but Zachariah didn't know where to find the last one."</p><p class="p7">"Blood of the maker..." Marlene repeated slowly, "As in, Lucifer?"</p><p class="p7">Arthur nodded. "He twisted Lilith's soul into being. His blood was the last key to unlocking her cage."</p><p class="p7">"How...you..." Marley opened her mouth to form a thought but couldn't quite find the right words, "Had...you...this <em>entire time</em>," she said loudly for it to register in her own mind, "there was the literal Devil's blood in our house? <em>This</em> house? Where we celebrated Christmas and Easter? Oh my G — this is twisted, even for you, dad."</p><p class="p7">"I didn't know," Arthur pleaded, "Not until Zachariah told me."</p><p class="p7">Marley's frown deepened. At this point, she'd be happy if it turned out she was going crazy.</p><p class="p7">"Your grandfather Felix...he liked to collect things." Marlene wanted to scoff, looking at Arthur's own collection of trinkets. Apple, tree and all that. "And there was one he cherished above all."</p><p class="p7">"What was it?"</p><p class="p7">"Do you...do you remember your grandmother's pendant?"</p><p class="p7">Marley's brow furrowed. Her Tata Ophelia died when she was seven, she barely remembered her at all. Only that she always had the strange, Victorian-looking thing hanging down her chest from a silver chain.</p><p class="p7">"The one with the huge emerald?" Marlene asked, puzzled, "What about it? Is it haunted or something? I always thought it was creepy."</p><p class="p7">"Marlene — what do you know about emeralds?"</p><p class="p7">"Do I look like a geologist, dad?" she snapped and then inhaled sharply, "Can we just...can we not make it a study session, please? Just stop speaking in da Vinci codes and tell me already."</p><p class="p7">Normally, Arthur would have ignored her plea, but now he obliged, "The first emerald in being belonged to the most favoured son of God. Lucifer the Morning Star," he spoke faintly, "It adorned his heavenly crown and glowed in the Lord's Devine light. And when Lucifer was banished from Heaven and cast into Hell after the gory rebellion, his crown was destroyed. The emerald found its way down to the land its master so loathed, split into 3 pieces and scattered around the earth."</p><p class="p7">Marlene's brows shot up as it finally downed on her, "So you're saying that one of the pieces?..."</p><p class="p7">"It was a family relic," Arthur nodded, "Your great grandfather searched the entire world for it and found it in possession of an old Belgian Duchess, embedded within a silver pendant."</p><p class="p7">"But why was he looking for it in the first place?"</p><p class="p7">"Because — " Arthur broke off, his entire face going pale as parchment. Marlene followed his wary eyes and froze.</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, wonderful. Everyone's here," Zachariah sing-sang, "Hope I didn't miss any fun." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It was the man she had seen in her father's study that night. The vicious angel of death in a suit, his voice just as disturbingly saccharine as she remembered. <em>What a steaming peace of heavenly divinity</em>, Marley thought, her mouth curling in distaste. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"> Zachariah caught her glare with a jolly smile, "Little Miss Marlene, we meet at last. Did you enjoy your little getaway?" he inquired knowingly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Of course he'd been spying on her. It explained so much, she wanted to scream. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Personally, I thought it was a little poorly thought out. You're young and attractive, could've gone to Cancun, Miami or The City of Angels for father's sake, but South Dakota? It's so <em>boring</em>," the angel drawled. "Though a little birdie told me you had a lot of fun, didn't you? Made some friends? Some unforgettable memories? Oh, to be young again," he sighed wistfully. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene glanced at her father to gauge his reaction. Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan, the man with 3 PhDs, was simply standing there, eyes downcast. It was clear he hadn't been expecting this visit, but couldn't very well kick Zachariah out, the loyal lapdog that he was. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What do you want?" Marley asked faintly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I think you know what I want, Marlene," Zachariah's lips stretched into an unwavering smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though. "Don't you?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley said nothing. She just kept her wary eyes on him.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Why are you here, Zachariah?" Arthur asked, much to her surprise. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Can't I pay a visit to my friends?" the angel wondered innocently, "We <em>are</em> friends, aren't we, Arthur?" </span>
</p><p class="p7"><span class="s2">For a moment, Arthur seemed resolved to push back. Marlene's heart thumped in her chest at the prospect of Zachariah's possible retaliation </span>— she doubted he'd take kindly to disobedience. And it seemed that her father had the same thought, for the belligerent expression on his face quickly melted off, "Of course," he droned.</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Happy with the answer, Zachariah walked around the living room like it was a promenade, taking a look around. He paid much attention to Arthur's impressive collection of Armenian pottery and their family photos on the mantel above the fireplace. He picked one up to take a closer look. Marlene glanced at her father and found him struggling to keep his composure. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It was her parents' wedding photo.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, Sophia," Zachariah sighed, "Wonderful woman." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Arthur's face instantly changed, "You...you know her?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh yes, we shared a wonderful talk the other day. She's very excited to see you," Zachariah said. There was a strange foreboding in his words, a lingering threat. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"How do we know it's true? That you're not lying?" Arthur asked.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You don't, that's the beauty of it. Venture into the unknown," Zachariah said like it was an overused slogan from an obscure 70s ad, "Live a little. You'll like it there, I promise," he looked at Marley, "And you'll <em>love</em> it."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"That's a bald assumption," she said,"I wonder if all the people who are going to die because of your megalomaniac bullshit will "love" it too."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah's smile wavered just a little, "They will be in God's kingdom, of course they'll love it. It's more than they could have ever hoped for. Or deserved. They should be thankful for this chance. In fact, <em>you</em> should be thankful, too." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It's not a chance," Marley seethed, "It's murder." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Potato potato," the angel shrugged. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"So that's your plan? Break all the seals, let Lucifer out and see what happens?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah laughed, "I love your daughter, Arthur. Much more entertaining to be around."</span>
</p><p class="p7"><span class="s2">"Zachariah </span>— " Arthur tried to reason but the angel didn't even hear him.</p><p class="p7">"Have you ever stopped to wonder about the prophecy?" he strolled up closer to Marlene, "God's word blah blah, it was long foretold blah blah blah. Lord's army against forces of evil. Ring a bell?"</p><p class="p7">The only fight that came to Marley's mind was one from the Book of Revelation. God sent the warrior-angel, the belligerent Archangel Michael to protect the Heavenly Kingdom from his sinful, power-hungry brother. They clashed in a historical battle, which ultimately resulted in Lucifer's banishment into the pits of Hell. Could this...could this be round two?</p><p class="p7">"Archangel Michael will fight Lucifer?"</p><p class="p7">Zachariah was delighted at her quick thinking, "He most certainly will. And he will win."</p><p class="p7">Marley turned to her father. He stayed silent, eyes downcast — he clearly already knew. "But...why? Why even do it?" she asked Zachariah.</p><p class="p7">"Because it has to happen, Marlene. Everything has an expiry date, and this dump is due for a thorough cleanup," he sounded so infuriatingly nonchalant, so clinical about it. Like it was a simple routine. A chore. "I get it. Your father gets it. Even Dean's on board. Isn't it a merry band?"</p><p class="p7">Marley had suspected that Castiel got to Dean and delivered him to Zachariah. Now, she knew it for certain. But still, she couldn't quite believe that he was okay this twisted plan. Marlene didn't know Dean very well — hell, she didn't know him at <em>all</em> — but knew he wouldn't trust Zachariah. She was surprised that anyone did.</p><p class="p7">Her father had said that the angels didn't want to get involved, that all it took was "the one tile" to send the world into chaos. Could it be that they didn't know the little "push" came from the upper management and not God's hand?</p><p class="p7">"You're lying," Marley told him point-blank.</p><p class="p7">"Am I? Some things just have to be done, Marlene. Dean understands it."</p><p class="p7">"Oh yeah? And do other angels know what you're doing?" she spoke slowly, "Does <em>Gabriel?</em>" Something in Zachariah's face changed. The smile became even more maniacal, "Because it seems a little shady to me."</p><p class="p7">"Marlene," Arthur warned.</p><p class="p7">"He's not going to hurt us, dad," she told him, looking at Zachariah, "He knows what'll happen if he did."</p><p class="p7">Marley wasn't sure she was playing her cards right. Or even if she they were good at all. They could very well turn out to be an <em>offsuit</em>. Because Gabriel hadn't reached out to her since her birthday and Marlene didn't have any powers — other than her headaches — to fight the angel off. To fight <em>anyone</em> off, really.</p><p class="p7">But Zachariah didn't know that. For him, she was a mystery. And nothing was more dangerous than the unknown.</p><p class="p7">"I could call for him," Marley challenged, "I'm sure he'd be happy to help."</p><p class="p7">"Marlene, stop it," Arthur's low voice thundered, startling her.</p><p class="p7">She shot him a disbelieving glare, "<em>Stop it?</em> Dad — " Marley broke off with a scream as a striking pain pierced through her head.</p><p class="p7">Arthur's face went completely white, "Marlene? Marlene..."</p><p class="p7">But Marley didn't hear him — she was deafened by the voices that spoke so loudly, on a frequency so high, she felt like her head would pop like a balloon. The last thing she saw before the world went completely dark was Zachariah's unimpressed face.</p><p class="p7">His mouth was curled into a mocking smile as he sang, "Sweet dreams." And brought two fingers to her forehead.</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean dialled Sam's number again, desperate to hear anything but freaking static. There was still time to fix it, if he could just get through to...</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You can't reach him, Dean," Castiel spoke behind him. Dean stilled. He didn't turn around, "You're outside your coverage zone."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What are you gonna do to Sam?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing," Castiel walked over to Dean, "He's gonna do it to himself."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Castiel lowered his eyes. "Oh, right, right," Dean nodded and stepped closer, "Got to toe the company line. Why are you here, Cas?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"We've been through much together, you and I," Castiel said, voice heavy with regret, "And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">A smile tugged at Dean's mouth, ""Sorry"?" he looked away with a mirthless chuckle and punched Castiel in the face. The angel hardly flinched. Dean couldn't say the same as he suffered in silence, flexing his hand. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than <em>"sorry." </em>" he gritted out, turning back to the angel. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Try to understand </span>
  <span class="s4">— </span>
  <span class="s1">this is <em>long</em> foretold. This is your </span>
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1">"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Destiny?" Dean scoffed, "Don't give me that "holy" crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep <em>you</em> in line! You know what's real? People, families </span>
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1"> <em>that's</em> real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What is so worth saving?" Castiel advanced on Dean, making him stumble back. Cass looked lost. Doubtful. And scared. "I see <em>nothing</em> but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. Why can't any of you understand that? You'll be at peace," Castiel said quietly, "Even with Sam."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It did sound tempting. After all, what was there to live for? Just another hunt, another cheap motel, a bottle of beer and food that would probably kill him soon anyway. At least that way, they could see their mother again. No more suffering, no more death, no more driving around in Baby, listening to the same three albums on repeat. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It sounded kind of boring. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You can take your peace...and shove it up your lily-white ass," Dean said slowly. Cass squinted at him, "'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. This is simple, Cas!"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Castiel turned away, unable to listen to this anymore. He thought he was making the right decision. He <em>knew</em> it. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No more crap about being a good soldier," Dean pressed mirthlessly, "There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you <em>know</em> it. Look at me!" He grabbed Castiel by the shoulder and tuned him back to face him, "You know it! You were gonna help us once, weren't you? Marlene told me everything </span>
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1"> you were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me </span>
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1"> now," Dean implored desperately, searching Castiel's face for any sign of hesitation, "<em>Please</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The angel looked away, "What would you have me do?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Get me to Sam! We can stop this before it's too late."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I do that, we...will all be hunted," Castiel told Dean, his resolution wavering, "We'll all be <em>killed</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"If there is anything worth dying for... " Dean whispered, "<em>this is it.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But Cass only shook his head </span>
  <span class="s4">and lowered his eyes. Of course, he was too much of a coward to do the right thing. Dean should've known better, </span>
  <span class="s1">"You spineless..." he seethed and walked away, "…soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're<em> done.</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Dean </span>
  <span class="s4">—"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"We're done!" Dean yelled. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">When he turned around to see if Castiel was still there, he felt a pang of disappointment. The angel had disappeared. And so did </span>
  <span class="s4">any hope Dean had for him. </span>
</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene woke up in her childhood bedroom, completely disoriented. She felt drowsy, her head was hurting like hell and she had no idea how she'd got there. But when the memories came back, and they <em>did</em>, she jumped off the bed and beelined straight for the door only to find it locked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She had been locked inside her childhood bedroom. <em>By her own freaking father</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Dad!" she yelled, banging on the door, "Dad, let me out! Dad!" But there was nothing, not a sound. "<em>Fuck!</em>" Marley yelled and landed a final blow before crumbling down to the floor. No, she couldn't succumb to panic. Panic was a good-for-nothing, paralysing parasite that scrambled your brain and rendered you a mush of doubt and despair. And Marley needed her brains right now. She needed to <em>think</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She could sneak out of her bedroom window and slide down the roof like she'd done in high school. But what then? Her car was a million states away and if she tried to run away, the evil angelic godmother would no doubt turn her into a pumpkin.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley spotted her bag on the divan by the window. Her dad had probably rummaged through it in search of his journal. Good thing she had it hidden in the inside pocket of the parka she'd got at an obscure thrift shop somewhere in Maryland. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She grabbed the bag and scrabbled around for her phone, but then remembered she had no one to call. And the police were probably wiretapping it, so it was not an option. With a heavy sigh, she threw the bag on the bed and considered just falling asleep. God, she felt so wretched </span>
  <span class="s4">— </span>
</p><p class="p7">"Of course," Marlene whispered. She could use a different means of communication. One that wasn't bugged by the police.</p><p class="p7">"Castiel?" Marley called hesitantly, "I know you can hear me. You did the last time." She sat down on the corner of her bed. "I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but I do know that you're doubting. Doubting is good. It...it means that you know, in your heart, that what they — what Zachariah's doing is <em>wrong</em>.</p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The park was deserted and peaceful. Shadows of the quickly approaching dusk had already crawled their way up the purple sky, sprinkling it with stars. The moon found its reflection in the still surface of the pond, and Castiel watched as an occasional gust of wind sent a ripple through it.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He sat on the bench overlooking the city. City filled with thousands of people who were oblivious to the fate awaiting them. The people God had created and chosen to abandon to their doom. Did He know what was going to happen? Had He truly wished for that? God had banished Lucifer from Heaven, his favourite son, because he loved His earthly creation too much to see it destroyes by Lucifer's greed and jealousy. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Why would he let it all perish now?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"><em>Castiel</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The voice startled him. Castiel frowned and looked up to the skies. </span>
  <span class="s4">
    <em>I know you can hear me. You did the last time. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p7">It was the girl. The abomination all angels had been taught to seek out and destroy. They'd told him that her bloodline was the testament to Gabriel's sin. The mockery of all that was holy. Castiel had expected the girl to be a monster or a wolf in sheep's clothing, but he hadn't seen a spot of darkness in her. Other than the blood running through her veins.</p><p class="p7"><em>I don't know where you are or what you're doing, but I do know that you're doubting. </em>Castiel clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes.<em> Doubting is good. It...it means that you know, in your heart, that what they — what Zachariah's doing is </em>wrong<em>. </em></p><p class="p7">There was a moment of silence, and Castiel found himself worried that she was gone, but Marlene spoke again, <em>Castiel, my father and Zachariah are responsible for Lilith's escape from Hell.</em> <em>He tells all of you not to get involved and let the prophecy come to pass, but he was the one who flipped that tile and let the others follow suit. He orchestrated the entire thing, Castiel. </em></p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It isn't <em>God's</em> will, you're not heeding <em>His</em> word," Marlene said, "But that of a delusional son of a </span>
  <span class="s4">— </span>
</p><p class="p7">Castiel appeared in the middle of her bedroom. He looked too imposing and out of place in the four pink walls filled with everything that made Marley human and not the monster he thought she was.</p><p class="p7">"I received your message," the angel looked grim and resolved, but his blue eyes were kind.</p><p class="p7">"I thought you couldn't get inside."</p><p class="p7">"Your wards have been broken," Castiel reported in his dutiful minion voice.</p><p class="p7">Marley gave a slow nod. So that's why Zachariah had easily zapped into their living room. Cass walked to the window and checked to see if there was no one outside, "We need to go before Zachariah knows I'm here."</p><p class="p7">"Does that mean you're here to rescue me?" Marley quirked a brow.</p><p class="p7">Castiel tilted his head and squinted at her, "Yes," he said slowly.</p><p class="p7">"So I'm not an abominable monster?" He lookes away. Marlene smiled, "Alright, you don't have to answer that. What's the plan?"</p><p class="p7">"There is no plan."</p><p class="p7">"Oh," She didn't expect that, "Well, that's, uh...that's okay. Do you know where Dean is?"</p><p class="p7">"Yes. But Zachariah could be there."</p><p class="p7">"He won't. He's here. At least, he <em>was</em> here. I think he and my father left somewhere," Marlene frowned as she said it. What a disturbing thought.<em> Could Zachariah hurt him?</em> Where had they gone to? If Arthur were at home, he would've heard her screams. He would've come to the room to check on her.</p><p class="p7">Castiel considered her words, a plan forming in his mind, "Alright," he nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I know what to do."</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean had been pacing the room relentlessly, trying and failing to find a way out of this angelic Fort Knox. It was freaking impenetrable: no doors, no windows, no nothing. He was starting to grow weary and hungry, and the platter of very tempting white castles didn't seem like such a bad idea after hours spent scooped up in this place. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean paused in front of the pile of burgers, eyed it with deep contemplation and took one. But before he was able to take a bite, someone grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall. <em>Castiel?</em> Dean's eyes went wide. The angel pressed a hand over his mouth and drew a knife. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He stared at Dean, brows raised in an attempt to communicate a message. <em>Do you trust me?</em> Castiel was asking. Slowly, Dean nodded, and the angel let him go. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean watched, shocked, as Castiel brought the knife to his forearm and made a long cut, drawing blood. He spilt it into his palm and smeared it across the wall to form a strange sigil. Dean didn'trecognise is, but the writing looked pretty damn old.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Castiel!" A voice thundered through the room. Zachariah advanced towards them, "Would you mind explaining just what the hell you're doing?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Cass finished drawing the sigil and slammed his hand right in the heart of it. Suddenly, a blinding flash of light shot out, banishing Zachariah away. Dean shielded his eyes and when the light was gone, so was the angel. He gaped at Castiel.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He won't be gone long. We have to find Sam now," Cass said, all business. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Where is he?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know. But I know who does," he returned the knife to Dean, "We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"So it's true, then. Lilith is the final seal?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Castiel nodded gravely, "She dies, the end begins." </span>
</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene almost tripped over a bottle of beer upon landing, which didn't bode well in itself. The house was shrouded in darkness. The only beacon of light was a computer in the living room. </span>
</p><p class="p7"><span class="s2">Marley made her way through scattered books, notes, towers of pizza boxes and an impressive amount of beer bottles. There was an array of them by the computer </span>— someone'd been having a wild evening. She squinted at the screen. There was a file opened, <em>"Supernatural</em> <em>— Lucifer Rising by Carver Edlund." </em>Well, if that were a coincidence, Marley's faith in serendipity would be restored. Who the hell lived here?</p><p class="p7">"Hey, uh — is that the, um, the Angel Inn?" She heard a voice coming from the kitchen area. It was getting closer, "Oh, yes, that...that'd be really nice. H-how many girl do you have?" Marley made a disgusted face. Was he ordering hookers? God, where had Castiel dropped her off?</p><p class="p7">"That — that's very tempting," the man chuckled awkwardly, strolling into the living room. He was rather short, dressed in jeans and a casual jacket, "So, like, how fast can you — "</p><p class="p7">He halted when he saw Marlene standing in the middle of the room, alone. She froze. He stared at her, mouth agape, the phone still pressed to his ear, "Um...yeah, she's, uh — she's already here?" He told the operator very slowly, "You guys work r-really fast."</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Castiel.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Wham Bam Shang-a-Lang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 8 / Wham Bam Shang-a-Lang</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth; and there came peals of thunder, rumblings, flashes of lightning and an earthquake.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p2">— Book of Revelation 8:5</p><hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4">It looked like one of those suspenseful standoffs from Westerns. Only the man — Carver Endlund — was still on the phone ordering hookers and Marlene...well, she didn't have a gun. Or much of anything. With that in mind, she eyed a hanger on the couch and made a grab for it. Marley pointed the "weapon" at the strange man in what was supposed to be a threatening manner. He hung up the phone.</p><p class="p4">"H-heey," Edlund drawled in a shaky voice, hands raised in surrender. He's not particularly scared of the hanger but rather of what the girl could do to him with it.</p><p class="p4">"Who the hell are you?"</p><p class="p4">"This is <em>my</em> house," he told her. Suddenly, his eyes went wide, "Are you an angel?"</p><p class="p4">Marlene wanted to burst out laughing. "<em>No</em>," she answered, insulted by the assumption. And then asked, suddenly suspicious, "Are you?"</p><p class="p4">"No. I'm a writer."</p><p class="p4">Marley looked around at the whole mess, "Yeah, I can tell." She had to hope that Castiel hadn't dropped her off in the middle of nowhere, at some sexually depraved stranger's house. Was he one of the hunters? A friend of Dean's?</p><p class="p4">"Why are you here? Who <em>are</em> you?" "Carver Edlund" sounded extremely panicked, "Are you a fan? Listen, this is <em>not</em> okay, I'm going to call the police —"</p><p class="p4">"No!" she instantly screamed, startling the poor guy, "No police, please." Marley put the hanger neatly on the couch and extended her hand, "I'm...Marlene. A linguist."</p><p class="p4">Hesitantly, "Carver Edlund" reached out his right hand to shake it. Marlene eyed it suspiciously, then looked up at the guy, remembering his conversation on the phone. They had a mutual understanding. He cleared his throat and withdrew the hand in humiliation. Marlene pursed her lips — it was...awkward.</p><p class="p4">But then "Carver Edlund" looked like he'd been struck by a lighting. His eyes went comically wide, "Wait, did you say you're a linguist?"</p><p class="p4">Marley's brow furrowed, "Yes?" she replied slowly.</p><p class="p4">"Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan? Yale graduate? Left your old life behind after your friend's death and never looked back?"</p><p class="p4">She felt a sudden urge to take hold of that hanger again. But the guy looked harmless. Maybe a little on crack, jittery, but pretty tame. "How...how do know all this?"</p><p class="p4">"Carver Edlund" stormed up to his desk like a man possessed and fumbled with a stack of papers, "This...this can't be happening. You're <em>not</em> supposed to be here right now, not until chapter..." He looked up at her, horrified, "Oh God."</p><p class="p4">Marley stared at him in absolute bewilderment, "Are you on drugs? What is all this?" But the guy just kept repeating <em>"Oh God"</em> and pacing the small space behind the desk. It took a loud crash in the hallway to break him out of this panic-induced trance. Both Marlene and the strange manwho hadn't introduced himself whipped their heads towards the sound.</p><p class="p4">"Oh, God," "Carver Edlund" mumbled one last time, staring at Dean and Castiel. He had given up on understanding what's going on.</p><p class="p4">"Chuck," Dean nodded in greeting.</p><p class="p4">So <em>that</em> was his name. Dean then looked at Marley, surprised. He didn't say anything, though, and neither did she. They exchanged knowing looks. Marlene nodded at him, Dean nodded back as if saying <em>"Yes, you were right about everything. Sorry I didn't believe you but I'll never actually say it 'cause I'm a prick with machismo galore."</em></p><p class="p4">Dean turned his attention back to Chuck, "We need your help."</p><p class="p4">The writer paled, "My help? With <em>what?</em>"</p><p class="p4">No words were said but it seemed there was no need for that — Chuck required no further explanation. Unlike Marlene, who was infinitely confused, he seemed to understand everything perfectly. Chuck's face fell, he pursed his lips.</p><p class="p4">It didn't bode well.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4">"So...there's an entire book series about you and your brother?" Marley asked. While Chuck had been going through his notes on the new chapter, Dean'd decided to tell her all about the unfortunate circumstances of their first meeting with the writer.</p><p class="p4">He looked extremely unimpressed with her, "This is the only thing you've taken out of this conversation?"</p><p class="p4">"So...what you write comes true?" Marlene turned to Chuck, ignoring Dean's question.</p><p class="p4">"No," Chuck said, "I-I don't think so. I'm not <em>God</em>, I can't make things happen. I'm just his messenger. Here to...to write everything down."</p><p class="p4">"Before it happens?"</p><p class="p4">"He is the prophet of God," Castiel explained evenly. </p><p class="p4">Dean didn't seem to give two shits about it, though, eager to return to the very reason they'd come here in the first place, "So did <em>God</em> give you Sam's location<span class="s2">?" he asked impatiently. </span></p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck muddled around with the papers and adjusted his glasses, "T-they arrive at St.Mary's, the place where </span>
  <span class="s3">—"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"St. Mary's?" Dean repeated, "What is that, a convent?</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, but you guys aren't supposed to be there. You're not <em>in</em> this story," he looked at Marlene,</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"None of you." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, well..." Castiel glanced at Dean and Marley, "We're making it up as we go."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">It appeared that they needed to do it faster than they'd hoped for. Chuck's entire house started shaking, a blinding white light spilled into the room from the window, accompanied by a racketing noise. Dean grabbed Marlene by the arm and pulled her away from the window as the glass blew up. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Aw, man!" Chuck yelled, "Not again! No!" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"It's the Archangel!" Castiel said to Dean. "I'll hold him off! I'll hold them all off! Go! Take Marlene with you! Just stop Sam!</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">With a single touch of the angel's hand, Dean and Marlene were transported away.</span>
</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p4">The first thing she heard was silence. The first thing she saw was darkness, stark after the bright light in the living room of Chuck's house. <em>The Archangel</em>. Could it have been be Gabriel?</p><p class="p4">Marlene looked around and saw statues of crying angels lined up along the corridor of a church. Where were they now? <em>St.Mary's</em>, her mind supplied helpfully.</p><p class="p4">"You alright?"</p><p class="p4">Marley almost forgot she wasn't alone. She followed the deep voice and found Dean looking at her, his brows furrowed in concern. She must've looked terrified.</p><p class="p4">"So this is where it happens," she felt chills running down her spine. This place felt off. Malicious. Evil...</p><p class="p4">"Let's hope not," Dean muttered, "Wait here, I'm going to —"</p><p class="p4">"No. I'm coming with you."</p><p class="p4">Dean gave her a stern look, "This is not some college frat party."</p><p class="p4">"Really? Cause you sure look like a deuche to me," Marlene retorted, "You can't tell me what to do. This is not just your fight, Dean."</p><p class="p4">He stared at her in silent frustration, then heaved out a reluctant sigh, "C'mon."</p><p class="p4">Dean led them down the corridor, towards an open door right at its end. Marlene could make two silhouettes: one tall, the other much shorter, standing with their backs to the door. As Marlene got closer, though, she recognised the black hair and the leather jacket of the girl. And it seemed Dean did too, for they both halted when Ruby looked back at them.</p><p class="p4">She smiled mischievously and closed the doors with a single gesture .</p><p class="p4">"No!" Dean beelined for the door. He tried to open it, but Ruby had sealed it shut, "Sam!" He banged on the wood, "Sam! Sam!"</p><p class="p4">There was a crash from the other side, screaming. A woman cried out in agonising pain. Dean and Marlene exchanged similar looks of trepidation and tried to push the door open. Marley joined him in the effort, although she suspected her scrawny built was of little help. Dean slammed his entire weight into the door again and again, but it wouldn't budge. More screams came from the inside and then...everything went disturbingly quiet.</p><p class="p4">Marley could feel it in her bones, with the little angel blood she had in her body. The last seal had been broken. She suddenly stopped and looked at Dean — he stopped too, as though seeing it in her eyes. But then his nostrils flared up with resolution. He grabbed a huge candelabra from the wall and pounded at the door with it.</p><p class="p4"><span class="s2">Once, twice </span>— it looked like nothing would break through, but Dan didn't give up. He stepped away from the door, tightened his grip on the candelabra and all but smashed into the door, breaking it open.</p><p class="p4">Marlene instantly spotted Ruby, crouched by a man at the alter. The demon whipped her head around and caught Marley's eyes with a wide smirk, <span class="s2">"Took you long enough. I was hoping you'd come to see the bitch die. You know, <em>vengeance</em>." </span></p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Ignoring the barb, Marlene turned her attention to the man by Ruby's side. <em>Sam</em>. He looked completely lost, shaking. Her eyes fell on the body of a woman next to him. She was wearing a white dress that was now stained with blood, her blonde hair spilled on the cold stone in a halo. So this was the body Lilith had chosen after killing Tessa. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You're too late," Ruby cut her eyes to Dean. Marley noticed a flicker of steal in her peripheral vision and turned to see him drawing a strangely-looking knife.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I don't care," Dean said and launched himself at the demon. For a second, Marley thought that Ruby would retaliate, but Sam stood up just in time and grabbed her from behind before she could land a blow. Frozen with fear, Marlene watched as Dean plunged the knife deep into the demon's chest while Sam held her in place. He twisted it mercilessly, and Ruby's eyes went wide. her body flickered with red light before shutting down. Dean pulled out the knife, and the demon crumpled to the ground. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">That was when Marlene noticed the trickle of Lilith's blood move, forming a sigil...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam looked at Dean, eyes flooded with tears, "I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">...the pattern was coming together, "G-guys," Marley called right before a white light shot out from the ground and the entire covenant began to tremble. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"We need to go!" Dean yelled over the racket. But neither one of them could look away from the light, even as the building started to tumble down. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1"><em>Gabriel, please save us. I know you've been ignoring me. I know I didn't listen, but please, </em>please<em> get us out of here.</em></span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"He's coming," she heard Sam whisper before everything went white. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean peaked out at his surroundings and dropped his arms in shock. They were on a freaking airplane. How in the world?... Dean turned to Sam. He looked equally freaked out.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">He looked around, "What the hell?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know," Sam mumbled in confusion. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean craned his neck to see the rest of the cabin in search of Marlene, but she was nowhere to be found. "Where's she?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam gave him a baffled look, "Who?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"The girl. Marlene." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the pilot, "<em>Folks, quick word from the flight deck,</em>" he said over the intercom, "<em>We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore —</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean's brows twitched together, "Ilchester? Weren't we just there?" he looked out the plane window.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>...So if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to — </em>"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">A stream of bright energy shot up into the sky, sending a shock wave through the entire city. And the airplane got caught in it. The cabin erupted in screams and chaos, oxygen masks dropped down. Dean and Sam put theirs on as the light grew brighter, glaring, followed by the familiar ringing sound. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean looked out the window and all he could see was blinding white. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Starry nights and sunny days</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I always thought that love should be that way</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But then comes a time when you're ridden with doubt</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You've loved all you can and now you're all loved out</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4">Marlene was still shielding her face from the light when she realised she wasn't in the convent anymore. Perhaps, it was the music that clued her in or the giggles and the clinking of champagne glasses. Last Marley checked, she was about to be obliterated by an infernal flame, but the warmth she was currently feeling came from the...blazing sun. It was shining from the bright azure sky above theyacht she was on.</p><p class="p4">She was on a yacht. <em>A yacht? </em></p><p class="p4">Marley jerked away when someone bumped into her, "Scusi, signorina," the waiter apologised and proceeded towards a sunlit deck, balancing a platter of drinks on his hand. Absolutely mystified and half certain she had died and gone to Heaven (the irony), Marley followed the music.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>We've got a wham, bam shang-a-lang</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>And a sha-la-la-la-la-la babe</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Wham bam shang-a-lang</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>And a sha-la-la-la-la-la babe</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4">The deck was facing a wide, sapphire sea that stretched for miles and miles, disappearing into the blue skyline. Marlene watched the waiter as he distributed colourful cocktails between three bikini-clad, giggling girls and put another one next to a man in a fancy deck chair. He was wearing a wide-brimmed straw fedora and a pair of stylish sunglasses, and Marley knew exactly who he was.</p><p class="p4">The three girls tittered between themselves, throwing sultry looks at the "stranger". Damn, Marlene felt like she was going to melt in her black jeans and a three-dollar parka.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4">And she probably would've if she was still in the...</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p4">Gabriel'd heard her. He'd saved her. But...Marlene looked around. Where were Dean and Sam? Her chest tightened with worry —</p><p class="p4">"Are you just going to stand there?" Gabriel droned.</p><p class="p4">Marley shuffled awkwardly in her combat boots. She belonged on this yacht just as much as almond belonged in chocolate — not at all. Marlene trudged up to Gabriel's deck chair and stood beside him, looking rather unimpressed by the whole Hugh Hefner-extraordinaire ambiance.</p><p class="p4">As if sensing the judgement she didn't even try to hide, Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the half-naked models disappeared. He lowered his sunglasses and gave Marlene an evaluating once-over, "Well, <em>you</em> look like crap," the archangel very joyfully pointed out.</p><p class="p4">"You got me out of there."</p><p class="p4">"Call me sentimental," Gabriel shrugged off, sipping on his piña colada.</p><p class="p4">She remembered Lilith's lifeless vessel, remembered blood trickling down the cold stone of the convent from the alter and curling into a sigil...Oh God.</p><p class="p4">"L-Lucifer is..." Marley tapered off.</p><p class="p4">"Yup. Lucifer <em>is</em>."</p><p class="p4">She watched Gabriel try to catch the straw with bewildered fascination. Is that what he'd been doing this entire time? Getting wasted on yachts with floozy models?</p><p class="p4">"Where've you been?"</p><p class="p4">At last, Gabriel succeeded in his herculean endeavour and took a long sip, "Me? Around."</p><p class="p4">"<em>Around?</em>"</p><p class="p4">"Here, there, a little bit of everywhere," he put the cocktail glass on the little table and stood up, spreading his arms, "Enjoying the world while it lasts."</p><p class="p4"><em>"He's coming"</em>. Marlene shivered from the recent memory. "Where're Dean and Sam?"</p><p class="p4">Gabriel shrugged, "How should I know?"</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s3">"Wh </span>
  <span class="s1">— you...you just — just <em>left</em> them there?" she spluttered. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, don't worry, they'll be fine."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"How can you be so casual about it?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"About what?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>The Apocalypse.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, that. Marls," Gabriel turned to her, "I've been around for so long, it's like changing channels."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">She squinted at him, arms crossed, "So you knew? That my father was working with the angels, that Lilith was the last seal — you knew all of it?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel looked mildly offended, "Of course I knew all of it," he scoffed. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"And you didn't even try to stop it?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Look, I was really rooting for Deanne..."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You could've helped them! You're an <em>Archangel</em> — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel's face grew stern, "I cannot affect the events."</span>
</p><p class="p4">"By doing nothing you <em>are</em> affecting them."</p><p class="p4">He walked away to stand at the railing, his back to Marley, "This is beyond your understanding. It was <span class="s2">— "</span></p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">""Long foretold?"" she derided, "Yeah, I heard that. Pretty shitty excuse for killing millions of people. Why don't you take your family feuds to Jerry Springer like normal people? I'm sure their ratings will skyrocket." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel turned to Marlene, the expression on his face strikingly serious, "This needs to happen, Marls, no one can stop it. Lucy's out of the bag and there's no way of sticking him back inside. He and Michael will have their fight, dad knows it's been a long time coming."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"And what happens then?" Marlene asked, "What if Lucifer wins, huh?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Then he wins."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">She burned Gabriel with a silent glare, more angry at herself for having a shred of hope in him. Marley wanted to believe that he was one of the good ones, but it appeared that being soulless dicks was the angelic MO. "Get me out of here," she demanded, "I need to go." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Let me guess," Gabriel smiled, "You're gonna go find Dean-o and his overgrown sibling?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know," Marlene sighed, exhaustion tumbling down on her like that wretched convent almost had, "I don't know what I'm going to do. Is there something I <em>can</em> do? Apocalypse is happening. Lucifer is free. Maybe I'll just go back to Yale to finish my degree before I die." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, come on, stay here!" Gabriel whined, "Everything you could possibly want, only a finger snap away. Look at this view," he pointed to the blue sea, "First-raw seats."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head in disbelief, "You're psychotic." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You're <em>delusional</em>. It's a shitshow out there, Marls." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Don't call me — " she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, "My father is responsible for this <em>'shitshow'</em>. I need to at least try to find a way to make it right."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Gabriel contemplated her words, looking into the distance like he was in a renaissance painting, sea breeze blowing into his face, ruffling his golden curls. "Don't call me again," he finally said and glanced at Marlene, "'Cause I ain't pickin' up." It was just a statement. A fact. An Archangel wasn't at anyone's beck and call.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley nodded, "I know."</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>—and Governor O'Malley urged calm, saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown...</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Change the station," Dean growled.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam leaned in and adjusted the radio, "<em>— Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area—</em>" he glanced at Dean and, noticing how tightly he was gripping the wheel, changed the station again, " <em>— announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear—,</em>" and again, "<em>—a series of tremors...</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam turned off the radio altogether. The car fell into complete silence. But not for long. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, look—"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Don't say anything," Dean droned, eyes trained on the dark rode ahead. Sam sighed, his face contorted with guilt. It had been eating at him ever since they made it off that plane alive. The fact that he had let himself be fooled by a demon, blinded by his righteousness. That he had betrayed his brother. That he had broken the last seal. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">And freed Lucifer. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"It's okay," Dean glanced at Sam, "We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">A pause. "Yeah, okay," Sam said quietly. What'd happened in the convent seemed like one of his nightmares. Only he didn't get to wake up in the morning and prevent the end from beginning. He was living it. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Though some things were still muddled in Sam's mind. He could swear he'd seen a girl. Dean'd mentioned her name on the plane. "Dean," Sam called. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean threw him a quick look, "What?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Was there...a girl with you? In the...in the convent?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," he answered after a short pause.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Who was she?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No idea."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Dean — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">He let out a frustrated sigh, "Her name is...was Marlene. She showed up at Bobby's, knew everything. Hell, she warned us about Lilith. Said the bitch killed her friend, wanted revenge."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam looked at him, shocked. "Was she an angel?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No. But her father's chummy with them," Dean gripped the wheel tighter, "Sounded a little shady to me. She had some weird anti-demonic hoodoo crap on her, said it was her dad's."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So she's a witch?" Sam asked, brows twitching together.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Doubt it. But she's hiding something, that's for damn sure."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Maybe she's a hunter." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean scoffed, "She almost blacked out when she saw us ice Ruby. That girl ain't a hunter." There was a pause before he spoke again, "She's probably dead now, anyway."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Whoever put us on Soul Plane, didn't get her a seat. She wasn't there."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned and turned away. If the girl was dead...he might as well have been the one to kill her. "Maybe she got away."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," Dean droned, "Maybe."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"It could've been angels," Sam spoke after some time of contemplation, "That saved us. I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way? They could've saved her too."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean almost lost control of the car when something heavy dropped into the backseat. Sam whirled around, eyes going wide with shock when he saw a girl sitting there. The same one he had seen with Dean in the convent. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Ho — wh — are you out of your goddamn mind?" Dean spluttered, catching her eyes in the rear-view mirror.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene caressed the rough textile of the seat just to make sure she was sitting and not floating in nothingness. She was in a moving car, on the ground. And Dean was in the driver's seat. And his brother next to him. And they were alive. Gabriel'd been right. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1"><em>Thank you</em>, she thought to herself, hoping that he'd at least hear that message. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Hi?" Marley greeted faintly. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"How the hell did you get out of there?" Dean demanded, trying to keep his eyes on the rode and glare at her at the same time. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Deciding it wasn't the time to drop the 'A' bomb yet, Marley opted for harmless lying. Or as she liked to say it, fanfiction on the truth, "How did <em>you?</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"That's what we're trying to figure out," San replied, his voice soft and reassuring after Dean's threatening rumble. Marley's eyes flashed to him, "I'm Sam, Dean's brother. And you must be Marlene?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Her smile was wane but genuine as she said, "Nice to finally meet you, Sam." He seemed a little confused by that but returned her smile nonetheless. Marley scooted to the centre of the backseat and leaned forward like a toddler on a road trip, "So where are we going?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean looked at her sideways, "<em>We</em> — " he pointed at Sam and himself, " — are going to figure out what the hell is happening."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Alright. And how do <em>we</em> intend to do that?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">She noticed Sam turn to Dean as if waiting for his response, too. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"First we need to find Cas."</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"...she's asleep."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Should we wake her up?" a voice wondered. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">A pause. Then an annoyed sigh. Marlene wanted to press a pillow to her head to cancel out the white noise, but found that there <em>was</em> no pillow. And she wasn't in a bed. A thundering slam of the car door did well to wake her up. Marley jumped with a start and look around like a newborn fawn. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean was giving her a stern look from the open window, "You'd better get your ass out of here if you want some food." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">And she did want food. <em>God,</em> did she want food. Marlene hadn't eaten since...Well, the last thing she'd put into her rumbling stomach was a Twinkie she'd found in her car on the way to South Dakota. Behind Dean and Sam's imposing figures was a second-rate diner, but to Marlene it looked like an oases in the middle of a Syrian desert. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Feeling like crap and looking the part, she shuffled out of the car and followed the brothers inside. They had no trouble finding an empty table. Dean and Sam sat on one side and Marlene on the other, making it look like a job interview. A very terrifying and potentially life-threatening job interview. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">In an effort to avoid awkwardness, Marley looked up at the TV: a newswoman was reporting an outbreak of swine flu in Georgia, and one of the experts, a very chunky bald man, raged about the dangers of a global pandemic. Well, that was a relief. Marlene had been expecting to see her face suddenly pop up on the screen. That would certainly make a great icebreaker.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Pleased yet still paranoid, Marley looked away from the TV and found Sam staring at her. Startled, she pursed her lips in a nervous smile and dropped her eyes to the menu. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You ready to order?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene almost jumped when a waitresses suddenly materialised in front of their table. She glanced up at the woman — she didn't look particularly suspicious. But neither had Allison-the-waitress who'd killed two demons. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Bacon Cheeseburger," Dean told her. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam gave his brother a side-eye and cleared his throat, "Uh, an egg-white omelette, please." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The waitress wrote it down into her little notebook and looked at Marlene, "Well?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley wet her chapped lips and glanced at Dean and Sam. They didn't think the woman was suspicious and they were <em>hunters</em>. "I...I'll have...uh, pancakes with whipped cream. No maple syrup, t-thank you."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"A cheeseburger, Dean? It's ten in the morning," Sam told him as soon as the waitress was gone. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Look, I've had a stressful day — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So how did you guys get out of there?" Sam and Dean were a little surprised by the abrupt question, "The convent." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Your guess is as good as ours," Dean grumbled, "One second we're about to be baked in the infernal oven and the next we're on a freaking plane up in the air. Whoever put us there, must've saved your ass, too." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," Marley mumbled, "Probably." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"But then why weren't you on the plane with us?" asked Sam.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I have no idea," she shrugged, "Last thing I remember is that white light and then...the backseat of your car." And also a short period of times spent on a yacht in the Mediterranean with an Archangel. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So how's your father doing, Marlene?" Dean asked after a moment of silence. He sounded deceptively casual about it, but Marley could tell that it was a sneaky question. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">She was about to answer when a bell above the diner door rang, signalling the arrival of a new hungry customer. And in walked a tall police officer. Thrown into a complete stupor, Marley watched as he took off his hat and swept his shrewd, law-abiding eyes over the diner. She quickly turned away. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Is everything alright?" Sam sounded concerned. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"That bad, huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I need to go," Marlene blurted and stood up. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Heey, wow, wow, wow," Dean grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and pulled her back, "You're not going anywhere." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You don't understand, I can't be here," Marley tried to tell them, eyes pleading. She glanced back at the officer. He was seated at the table by the window, looking through the menu. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Like hell you can't. Put your ass back into that seat."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam sighed, "Dean — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You still don't trust me, do you?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"He doesn't trust anyone. Don't take it personally," he reassured Marlene, ever the diplomat. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Look," she said impatiently and sat down, "There's...a police officer in this diner. And...there's also a high chance that he might...uh, find my face rather familiar." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned, "What do you mean?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"The police are looking into the death of my friend, the one..." Marley leaned in a little and lowered her voice, "The one that Lilith...killed." Judging by Sam's face, he already knew where this was going, "And apparently, people who mysteriously disappear from the crime scene are quite suspicious." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Now</em> you're telling us?" Dean asked, incredulous. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene checked on the officer to make sure he hadn't heard anything. Then she glared at Dean, "Can you not shout?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Are you a suspect?" Sam asked. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I...I don't know. I could be. I mean, it doesn't look too good, does it?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">There was a long, contemplative pause. "We'll figure it out," Sam told her, his eyes were warm and kind. He looked extremely tired, "Don't worry about it. We've...experience with law-enforcement. Just, uh, don't do anything that would draw attention. Like stand up in the middle of the diner." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley sent him a grateful smile, eyes prickling a little. She had been so on edge the past few days, she didn't even have the time to process everything that'd happened. And these men, these strangers, had been so kind to her...No, she couldn't cry in front of them. This was simply <em>not</em> an option.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So..." Marley drawled instead, eyes glimmering with amusement as she looked at Sam, "You'd trust anyone, then? Even a wanted criminal?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean huffed out a laugh, "If it ain't Sammy. The kind soul," he mocked. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley didn't miss the change in Sam's face. He looked away, jaws clenched. The atmosphere at the table quickly shifted from awkward to very, very tense. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">It would be a long ride. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck's house had been a mess. <em>Now,</em> it was an absolute wrack. It was a like a bomb had gone off in the middle of his living room, and Dean, Sam and Marlene had to make their way through the wreckage to get inside. It was extremely quiet, which was why a sudden noise from the kitchen made them halt in attention...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, Chuck jumped out from the corner and launched a vicious attack at Sam with a toilet plunger. Sam stumbled back from shock and brought his hands to his head, "Geez! Ow!"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Noticing who he was hitting, Chuck stopped, "Sam!" he exclaimed incredulously. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam sent him a disgruntled look, "Yeah!" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, Chuck," Dean stepped forward. Marley smiled in greeting. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Dean, Marlene," Chuck looked them over and then turned back to Sam, "So...you're okay?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Well, my head hurts," Sam grumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No, I mean — I mean, my — my last vision," Chuck spluttered, "You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your <em>eyes</em> were black."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene looked at Sam in alarm. Black eyes?...Surely, it couldn't be —</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Your eyes went black?" Dean asked, his voice grave.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam looked over his shoulder, not quite able to meet his brother's eyes as he mumbled, "I...I didn't know."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean considered his answer for a moment and then quickly dismissed it, turning his attention to Chuck instead, "Where's Cas?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck's face darkened, "He's dead. Or gone." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What?" Marlene's heart fell. He had done the right thing, he'd saved them...and that was what he got? </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"The Archangel smote the crap out of him," Chuck shook his head as though trying to get rid of that memory, "I'm sorry." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You're sure?" asked Dean, "I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, no. He, like, exploded," Chuck spread his arms in an 'explosion' gesture. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene didn't know angels could die. She had always thought of them as one with the universe, celestial beings that couldn't be touched or felt. Or hurt. It was strange, finding out that even they, God's first children, were no match for death...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">...<em>why is Sam staring at Chuck?</em> Marley frowned.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"W-what?" the prophet asked, uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam waved a hand by his own left ear, "You got a — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck brought his hand to his right ear, "Uh...here?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, the..." Sam pointed to the other side.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh," when Chuck found whatever it was Sam had been pointing to, his face went white with disgust and horror, "Oh, <em>god</em>." He pulled something out and gaped at it, "Is that a molar? Do I have a molar in my hair?" Chuck sounded like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown. His face crumpled, "This has been a <em>really</em> stressful day."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Cas, you stupid bastard," Dean muttered angrily. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam turned to him, "Stupid? He was trying to help us."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, exactly."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene sensed a strange ripple in the air. A vibration. The familiar noise began ringing in her ears.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So, what now?" she heard Sam's voice, but barely.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, crap," Chuck whispered, drawing their attention. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What?" Sam sounded wary. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I can feel them."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"The angels? They're coming here?" Sam asked. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck nodded, "They're gonna be here soon."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Fucking Zachariah," Marlene cursed.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean drew a knife from his belt and before Marley could understand what was happening, he cut his left palm open.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Her jaw dropped, "Holy shit — "</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Sounds about right," Dean muttered and brought his hand to the sliding door in the living room. The crimson blood looked stark against the white wood as Dean started painting...</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Is that a sigil?" Marley asked. It looked a little like the one she'd used to to summon Castiel.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"A precaution," Dean slid the door back just in time for the beginning of the show.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Thought we'd find you here."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam, Dean and Marlene whipped around: Zachariah was smiling at them, flanked by two suit-clad angels. They looked like arrogant assholes from Wall Street who lost nerve cells at the stock-market by day and snorted cocaine by night. Sometimes, both at the same time.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Playtime's over, kids. And you, young lady, are <em>grounded</em>," he told Marlene, taking a step forward, "Time to come with us."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean pointed a threatening finger at him, "You just keep your distance, asshat."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah frowned, "You're upset," he noted with ignorant confusion. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, really?" Marley scoffed, "So Lilith just Shawshanked her way out of Hell?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">When Zachariah looked at her, she felt a chill run down her spine, "Some people we just can't control. Right, Sammy?" Zachariah winked at him and turned to Dean, "You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. <em>You</em>," he looked at Marley again, "Well, you couldn't really do anything. Daddy issues, am I right?" Marlene tightened her jaw, glaring at his gleeful face. Ah, what a piece of shit. "So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was... all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not...it's Apocalypse <em>now</em>. And we're back on the same team again!"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Is that so?" Dean sounded quite sceptical about it. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You want to kill the devil. We <em>want</em> you to kill the devil. It's...synergy."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley narrowed her eyes at him, "How very convenient for you." Zachariah shrugged.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"And we're just supposed to trust you?" said Dean, "Cram it with walnuts, ugly." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"This isn't a game, son," Zachariah said, suddenly solemn, "Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike <em>now</em>. Hard and fast. Before he finds his vessel."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"His vessel?" asked Sam, "Lucifer needs a meat suit?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"He is an angel," Zachariah said with a chuckle and turned to see if his cronies'd appreciated the retort, "Them's the rules. And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies — the greatest hits."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Every chapter from the Book of Revelation...Marley glanced at Dean and saw the same horror reflected on is face. For a moment, he was actually considering it. And it seemed that Zachariah noticed it as well. "You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">A mirthless smile tugged at Dean's lips, "You listen to me, you two-faced douche," he gritted out, "After what you did, I don't want jack <em>squat</em> from you!"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah stepped forward, his face turning rigid, "You listen to <em>me</em>, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" he huffed out a laugh and suddenly stopped, eyes drawn to Dean's left hand, wary. "You're bleeding."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, yeah," Dean smiled, "A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Before Zachariah could understand what was going on, Marlene slid the door closed, revealing the bloody sigil on it. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah's eyes widened, "No!" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean slapped his hand on the banishing sigil, and the angel's screams were swallowed by the bright light. Marlene, Sam and Chuck flinched away from it, shielding their eyes. And when they were able to see, Zachariah and his buddies were long gone. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch," Dean spat. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley gaped at the scene, dumbstruck, "Holy shit," was the only thing she could produce. Again, it was quite fitting. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Chuck sighed next to her, "This sucks ass."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Very accurate, indeed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Devil-May-Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 9 / Devil-May-Care</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s3">.</span>
  <span class="s4">" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Book of Revelation 3:19</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Entry from March, 1997</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>People fear death because it is a mystery shrouded in darkness. I already know what awaits me after I've drown my last breath, and yet it scares me nonetheless. Does it make me a coward?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don't fear death itself, but what comes after. Because I have a feeling that it's much more terrifying. And my daughter is destined to meet the same end.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>However normal her life is, however carefree, she will find herself in a place where the most brutal tortures of Hell would seem merciful. And I can't do anything to stop it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think that scares me most of all.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>— the snippy sound of a reloaded gun made Marlene look up from the journal. Dean was meticulously oiling his weapons at the desk while she lied on the bed, reading. He caught Marley looking, "You ever shoot a gun before?"</p><p>"Do I look like someone who has?"</p><p>"You might have to get used to it."</p><p>"Shooting a gun? Yeah, no," Marley scoffed and stood up, completely forgetting about the journal. It fell from her lap and landed on the carpeted floor, "Shit." She crouched down to pick it up and noticed that a photo had fallen out as well. It was the one with Dean and Sam. Marley glanced at Dean, worrying her lip in thought. Should she tell them the truth? Not all of if, of course, but...</p><p>"Hey, Dean." He levelled her with a bored look, busy polishing the barrel of a handgun, "Have you ever been to Cambridge, Massachusetts?"</p><p>"What, we playin' drinking games now? Gotta say, there's no booze and it ain't fun without it."</p><p>Marley could never possibly imagine Dean playing "Never Have I Ever", but she let it pass. "Can you just answer the question?"</p><p>He cut her an annoyed look, "Yeah, I think so. Why?"</p><p>Marlene walked to the desk, put the photo on it and slid it towards Dean without saying a word. He glanced at her quizzically, put the gun down and took the polaroid. When he looked at it, his entire face changed, brows instantly furrowing, eyes going wide, "What is this?"</p><p>"A picture," she answered slowly.</p><p>Dean squinted at her, "Don't you sass me around. Where did you get it?"</p><p>She raised her father's journal and waved with it, "More where that came from."</p><p>Marley was careful with the pages she showed. She could navigate most of them by now and knew that John and his sons were mentioned only in three passages, all in the same year. There was another photo, one of Marlene and Sam, dating back to 1991, taken two month after Halloween. Dean read the entry and frowned, scanning through Arthur's scribbles. Marley knew what came next.</p><p>When Dean turned the page, his stilled. Yellow orbs stared back at him, dozens of them.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>There is nothing wrong with my daughter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I tell this to myself every day. Looking at her, putting her to sleep. Feeding her. She is just a child — how could something terrible have happened to a soul so new to the cruelness of this world?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Dean raised his eyes at Marlene, his face unreadable. She pursed her lips in remorse. It was then that Same strolled through the door in surprisingly high spirits. They significantly soured when he spotted Dean and Marlene in a silent face-off.</p><p>"Sorry, did I interrupt something?" Sam walked to the desk and saw the pictures. He recognised himself and Dean, but the little girl...Sam looked up at Marley, brow furrowed, "What..."</p><p>"You're gonna want to hear this, Sammy," he stared at Marlene and raised a brow as a cue for her to start talking.</p><p>"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked like he'd already given up on trying to reason with his brother.</p><p>"She has something to tell us. Don't you, Marlene?"</p><p>Sam looked at her in confusion. She sighed. "Sam, I...I — um, I'm...like you."</p><p>"'Like me'?" He frowned, "What do you — " his face cleared as the realisation hit him.</p><p>So Marley continued, "My father told me a month ago, on my 22nd birthday after I — I was almost killed by my friend. By <em>Lilith</em>, who'd possessed and then killed her. He hoped he wouldn't have to, but..." She trailed off and looked at Dean, "That's how our fathers knew each other. They were haunted by the same demon."</p><p>Sam looked dumbstruck, "Wow," he breathed, "That...Why don't I remember it? Do <em>you?</em>" He turned to his brother.</p><p>"No, not much," Dean answered gruffly, "So your father was a hunter after all?"</p><p>Marley shook her head, "No, no, he...he researched things. Made notes, observations — it's all there," she gestured to the journal, "He was looking for people like you," she told Sam, "Like <em>us</em>, I suppose. To get some answers."</p><p>"Do you...have any powers?" he asked.</p><p>"Powers?"</p><p>"It's, uh, what demon blood does," Sam said carefully and glanced at Dean who gave him a stern side-eye look.</p><p>"I mean, no? Aside from seeing ugly demon muzzles, there's really nothing to it," Marley lied smoothly. It wasn't a lie, per se. More like a half-truth."</p><p>"You can see demons?" Dean deadpanned.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Sam seemed fascinated, "In their true form?"</p><p>"Yeah...You can't?" she sort of figured all of them whizz-kids could do it.</p><p>He shook his head, "No, I...I have visions, sometimes. <em>Had</em> visions, I don't now. Not anymore." There was something strange in the way Sam said it. As thought he was careful not to say too much.</p><p>"So that's why Ruby came looking for you? An extra freak in case Sam flaked out?" Dean advanced towards her, "She feed you blood too?"</p><p>Sam glared at Dean and sent Marley an apologetic look.</p><p>"What the hell are you — you know what, it doesn't matter. She's <em>dead</em>. Lilith too." Marley told Dean, "We have more important things to worry about now. Like the Apocalypse? Zachariah's probably got his IT cherubs scouring every cheap hooker motel as we speak."</p><p>At that, Sam seemed to remember something, "About that," he pulled something out of his shirt and tossed it to Dean. He gave another one to Marlene — a little velvet pouch.</p><p>"What's this?" she wondered curiously.</p><p>"Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those," Sam seemed really excited about it, "Demons, either, for that matter."</p><p>"Where'd you get it?" Dean asked, examining the pouch.</p><p>Sam's excitement slowly diminished, "I made it," he replied curtly.</p><p>"How?"</p><p>His hesitation to reply made Dean look up at him. "I...I learned it from Ruby."</p><p>At that, Marlene, too, drew her eyes away from the pouch and looked at Sam with surprise.</p><p>"Well, isn't that nice. Couple bonding time," he muttered, "Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?"</p><p><em>What? </em>Did she hear that correctly?</p><p>Sam shook his head, "I — it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up."</p><p>Dean seemed impressed, "Supernatural methadone — "</p><p>"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" Marlene cut in, disturbed by the ambiguous references.</p><p>They stopped. Sam lowered his eyes, Dean raised his brows, "Well, since we're all about honesty today... Sammy here was shooting up demon blood."</p><p>"What?" Marley's eyes shot to Sam. He looked away guiltily. So that's what Dean'd meant, "Why...<em>What? </em>What on Earth compelled you to do that?"</p><p>"Ruby told him he needed more strength to ice Lilith. Look how that turned out, huh?"</p><p>Sam looked like he was about to go off, "Dean —"</p><p>"It's okay, Sam," Dean turned away as if unable to meet his eyes, "You don't have to say anything."</p><p>"Well, that's good," Sam said, just standing there awkwardly. Marlene felt sorry for him. But should she have? He'd ignored all pleas for reason and instead listened to a demon who'd manipulated him into breaking the last seal. "Because what can I...even say? "I'm sorry"? "I screwed up"? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right—</p><p>"So why do you keep bringing it up?!" Dean yelled suddenly.</p><p>Marley stepped forward, "Guys — "</p><p>Dean turned back, checking himself, and walked over to Sam, "Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess," he spread out his arms, "We clean it up. That's it."</p><p>Sam gave a hesitant nod, still not fully convinced he had his brother's forgiveness. And Dean wasn't sure he was ready to give it to him just yet. The atmosphere in the room was pretty tense, so Marlene felt like she had to say something.</p><p>"You guys do it every day, right? Kill stuff, watch over Gotham?" She glances from Sam to Dean, the looks on their faces equally thoughtful, "What would you do if it was any other hunt?"</p><p>Sam looked caught off guard by the question, "We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is," he said.</p><p>"All right," Dean nodded, "Then we just got to find...the devil."</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>Up until recently, Marlene had considered herself an agnostic. With a theologist for a father, it was hard to fully put your trust into something he considered a science. But try as she might to find reasonable explanations to all earthly wanders, she could never quite explain why the food in vending machines tasted better than the same food everywhere else.</p><p>Marlene gazed at the heavenly-lit array of junk food trapped behind glass, considering her options. She could go with Doritos, but then she's be drinking water every ten minutes which meant peeing every twenty minutes, and she was too sleepy for that. Or she could go for sweets —</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>Marley jumped away in panic and breathed a sigh of relieve when she saw it was Sam, "Sorry, you startled me. God, I was half expecting to be flashed at by a mysterious man in a trench coat." Just as she said it, Marlene realised how it came out. Sam couldn't help but smile at that. "My life is so bazaar."</p><p>He laughed. It made <em>Marley</em> smile, because it turned out Sam had a very nice laugh. He hadn't laughed once since they met.</p><p>"Trouble sleeping?" he asked.</p><p>Marley nodded, examining the contents of the vending machine, "You could say that. Haven't had a good night's sleep ever since..."</p><p>Sam nodded in understanding, "I'm really sorry about your friend. It must've been hard, being thrown into this life like that."</p><p>"Oh, you've no idea," Marley chuckled humourlessly, "But I guess growing up in it wasn't a treat either." She remembered what her father'd written about Dean and Sam, about having no true home, always on the move. Marley glanced at Sam — he seemed wistful. Pensive.</p><p>"It...had its moments."</p><p>Sam's face looked tired, almost gaunt. She couldn't even begin to imagine what thought plagued his mind at night.</p><p>"What about you? Trouble falling asleep on that horrendous cot? Sorry about that by the way. I'l take it next time — "</p><p>"No, it's fine, really," Sam assured her, "I'm just...I can't really stop thinking. About what's going to happen."</p><p>"Yeah, me neither," Marley whispered. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Tessa and thought of all the people who would die because of her father. Because of her... "Okay, <em>so</em> — " Marlene spoke cheerfully to drive away the darkness," — what are we getting? M&amp;Ms or...3 Musketeers?" she glanced at Sam.</p><p>"Almond Joy?" he suggested.</p><p>Marley looked at him like he was insane, "Almonds do <em>not</em> belong in chocolate," she said with a seriousness that made him smile.</p><p>"There're really good for you."</p><p>"I'm not eating chocolate bars for their nutritional value," Marlene dialed the right combination, and a pack of peanut M&amp;Ms fell from the rack. She retrieved it, awfully pleased with herself, and turned to Sam, "Now <em>this</em> is the shit."</p><p>They sat on the stairs near the motel by the road, an occasional car driving by and breaking the nocturnal quiet. Marley opened the pack of candy, poured some into her palm and handed it to Sam. He accepted the sweet offering, thought with some hesitation.</p><p>He eyed the ones in her palm — they were all the same colour, "Why are you only eating the brown ones?" he asked in good-natured confusion.</p><p>Marlene seemed surprised by the question as though she hadn't even realised she was doing it until Sam pointed it out, "Oh, <em>that</em>..well," she chuckled, "My dad never really let me eat junk food, was <em>super</em> strict about it, too. This was one of the only things he would get for me about...once a month?" Marley shrugged, "But he'd throw all the colourful ones away because they had food colouring in them, and it's <em>poisonous.</em> So I guess, it kinda stuck with me," she popped one candy into her mouth, relishing the taste of peanuts and chocolate.</p><p>Sam smiled. He had a dimple, Marley noticed. Just a very objective observation. "So...you want to poison me?" he asked with a palm filled with reds, blues, greens and yellows.</p><p>"Oh, definitely. Dean was right not to trust me — it was been my plan all along. Death by chocolate," she pondered on it, "Sounds kind of nice, actually, when you think about the imminent alternative."</p><p>They lapsed into a strangely comforting silence. It was rare for Marlene to be comfortable with that — she viewed silence as a lack of things to say, which, in her book, was an unforgivable offence. It was only later that she learned that silence was, in fact, the lack of necessity for words when they clearly weren't enough.</p><p>"So...Yale, huh?" Sam spoke again, "Sorry, Dean told me — "</p><p>"It's okay, I know you guys gossip about me," Marley smiled at him coyly, "Yeah, I studied Linguistics. Did you go to any school?"</p><p>Sam nodded, "Stanford. I did law."</p><p>"Wow, fancy," Marlene didn't expect that, "So you went to law school?"</p><p>"Uh, no. It didn't work out," he gave her a tight-lipped smile. There was a sadness in Sam's eyes when he spoke about the life he could've had. She wondered what'd made him leave it behind.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Marley said quietly.</p><p>"No, it's okay. That life wasn't for me anyway."</p><p>"Why do you say that?"</p><p>Sam was silent for some time. Then he looked at her, his hazel eyes filled with so much resignation, it made her heart ache, "Because once you're in, Marlene, once you <em>see</em> it, you can never go back. Not really."</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>Somewhere in Delaware, a man was being plagued by his demons.</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>Marley had to give it to Carver Edlund. Or Chuck Shirley — whatever you liked to call the author of the Supernatural series, because they were, <em>surprisingly</em>, pretty good. So good, in fact, that she had spent all day reading after picking up a couple of books at a gas station. She made sure to hide them behind the journal when Sam and Dean were in the room, of course.</p><p>They were so gripping, Marlene would sometimes get lost in the story and forget that all of it had actually happened. The Bloody Mary, The Wendigo...Sam's girlfriend dying right before his eyes, the same way his mother had. It was now clear why he had abandoned his aspirations for a normal life and joined Dean on the road. Why try to build something when it would eventually be destroyed?</p><p>Marley could tell that Sam still hadn't fully recovered from Jess's death. And the occasional flings on the road were the true testament to his fear of closeness, of belonging to someone and of someone belonging to him. The fact that he had to kill the first woman who had helped him forget about his past certainly hadn't helped the matter. Even if she <em>was</em> a werewolf.</p><p>Lying on the bed with the book, Marlene's eyes flickered up at Sam once in a while, studying him. He was hunched at the desk, going through John's journal and making notes. They still hadn't figured out what to do next — was there even a way to know what body Lucifer would fancy enough to possess? Sam's brows were deeply furrowed in concentration, and he'd bite on his lip sometimes when he got frustrated with research.</p><p>Marley was startled when Sam looked up from the journal, feeling her eyes on him, "What?" he asked. She just shook her head, mumbled a barely audible "nothing" and returned to the book.</p><p>"<em>How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?</em>" a reporter asked.</p><p>"<em>Two words,</em>" the other replied, "<em>Carbon emissions.</em>"</p><p>Dean scoffed at the TV, "Yeah, right, wavy gravy."</p><p>"Change the channel," Marley told him distractedly, absorbed in a particularly gruesome passage in the book, "If I hear about one more biblical disaster, I'll go crazy."</p><p>Dean looked at her askance and obliged, though rather reluctantly.</p><p>"<em>...The search still continues for Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, a former Yale student and a person of interest in an ongoing murder investigation. She was last spotted</em> <em>at a gas station in Waterloo, Iowa..."</em></p><p>Slowly, very slowly Marlene looked up from the book and saw her face plastered over the TV screen. Dean threw her a shit-eating grin, "Want me to change it back?" Eyes glued to the TV, she threw a chocolate bar at him. At first, Dean looked pissed off, but then he opened it and took a bite. Even Sam's attention was drawn to the news.</p><p>"<em>Peter Gernsey, the sheriff of the New-Haven Police Department, held a press-conference ealier this morning, naming Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan the prime suspect in the case.</em>"</p><p>A burly, plump man with a greying moustache appeared on the screen, surrounded by reporters, "<em>All the evidence found at the crime scene and at the apartment that the victim shared with Miss Ter-Gabrielyan, link her to the murder of Tessa Armitage. The details of the case...</em>"</p><p>"And what freaking evidence is that?" Marlene muttered.</p><p>"Could be a trick," Sam told her, "They want you to take the bait. This is why they don't disclose any details — because there <em>are</em> no details."</p><p>"Awesome," Dean looked at his brother, "Her face is all over the news. What if they spot us with her? We're supposed to be <em>dead</em>."</p><p>Marlene glared at him, "Hey, I'm right here."</p><p>"Yeah, that's the problem."</p><p>Sam sighed, trying to concentrate on the TV in the midst of their bickering, "<em>The suspect's father, Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan, professor at Harvard University, refuses to give any comment on the allegations made against his daughter,</em>" the reporter said. Arthur's academic portrait appeared on the screen.</p><p>"So that's the man, huh," Dean drawled sarcastically.</p><p>A knock on the door made them jump up. All three pairs of eyes instantly flashed to the entrance, wary. Sam and Dean exchanged looks — the kind only siblings could understand. Dean took out his gun and sat up on the bed while Sam, already armed, walked stealthily to the door. He turned to Marley and jerked his head towards the bathroom.</p><p>Willing herself out of stupor, she nodded and did as she was told. As soon as the door was closed, Marlene leaned against it, mumbling useless "Oh my Gods" and taking deep breaths. Dean'd been right, it <em>was</em> bad.</p><p>She heard a voice. A woman's voice. Marley put an ear to the door and — were those...giggles? Brows twitching together, she cracked the door open just a little to see what's going on. And it definitely wasn't what she had expected.</p><p>A girl was standing in the threshold of the room, her hand on Sam's chest. Marley's brows shot up — it wasn't the kind of police she had in mind.</p><p>"...Uh, do I know you?" Sam asked, clearly uncomfortable.</p><p>Dean was staring at them in bewilderment and glanced at the bathroom door. He caught Marley's eyes, and she mouthed "What the hell?". He shrugged and put the gun away.</p><p>The girl pulled back, "No, but I know <em>you</em>," she said, gazing up at Sam with an unsettling reverence, "You're Sam Winchester. And you're," she looked at Dean, significantly less excited, "— not what I pictured. I'm Becky."</p><p>She pushed past Sam and straight into the room which was the exact same moment Marley chose to come out of hiding. "I read all about you guys," Becky blabbered animatedly, "And I've even written a few — " the girl went still. Her eyes zeroed down on Marlene like a missile target, smile slipping.</p><p>"Who are you?" Becky asked in a shrill voice and turned to Sam, "Who is she?"</p><p>Dean gave her his signature no-shit-taking look, "The better question is, who are <em>you</em>?"</p><p>"Oh, oh, right," she made an effort to compose herself, though still giving Marlene a side-eye, " told me where you were."</p><p>"As in, Chuck?" Marley asked. Dean instantly stood up, his attention piqued.</p><p>Sam closed the door.</p><p>"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels," Becky sing-sang in a high-pitched voice. Dean and Sam shared a knowing look. "Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."</p><p>"R-right, right. Just, um...what's the message?" Sam pressed.</p><p>"He had a vision," Becky told him, completely ignoring Dean and Marlene. She closed her eyes and recited the message by memory, " <em>"The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it."</em> "</p><p>"The Michael sword?" Dean asked.</p><p>"Michael didn't <em>have</em> a sword..."</p><p>Sam ignored the remark, "Becky, does he know where it is?"</p><p>"In a castle," she told him reverently, "On a hill made of forty-two dogs."</p><p>"Forty-two...<em>dogs?</em>" Dean gave Same a pointed look. The girl was batshit.</p><p>Marlene failed to hold back a snicker. Becky glared at her. She held her hands up in surrender and bit down on her lower lip not to smile.</p><p>"Are...you sure you got that right?" Sam asked, brows furrowing.</p><p>Becky gave him the look of a Southern bell thanking a confederate soldier, "It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said," she stepped closer to Sam, "I memorised every word." Marlene and Dean watched as she laid a hand on his chest and craned her neck to meet his eyes. Sam was trying to avoid just that, "For you," she heaved out.</p><p>Sam glanced over at Dean and Marley looking ridiculously helpless, then down at Becky. "Um, Becky, c — uh, can you...um, can you quit touching me?"</p><p>Becky closed her eyes, her hands travelling up and down the planes of Sam's chest, fully relishing in its firmness. It was thoroughly disturbing and yet incredibly entertaining. For Dean and Marlene, that is.</p><p>"No," Becky whispered.</p><p>And that was that.</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>When Becky finally left, or better say, was <em>gently showed out</em>, Dean, Sam and Marlene set down to research. Dean called Bobby to come over and bring Baby (which Marley learned was the name of his beloved car) along with some books about angels. Sam was scouring the Bible for any lore about the sword, but as Marlene'd said, there was no sword. At least, it hadn't been mention in any of the Testaments. It was much later that Michael began to be portrayed with a weapon to fit the image of an angel-warrior from the Book of Revelation. The one who put down the rebellion.</p><p><em>"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband </em>— "</p><p>— Marley shut the book, the sound making Sam and Dean look up from their own reading.</p><p>"Didn't like the plot twist?" Dean asked.</p><p>Marlene heaved a sigh, "Too many spoilers." She rose from the desk, her butt almost numb after hours of sitting, "I'm gonna go get some food. D'you want something?"</p><p>"The Michael sword would be nice," Dean muttered and aggressively turned over the page.</p><p>"Anything else?"</p><p>"Could you grab some water?" Sam glanced at her from John's journal, "I think we've run out."</p><p>Marley smiled, "Yeah, sure thing."</p><p>She grabbed her coat from the chair and got out of the room. She couldn't spend another minute in that foreboding silence, reading on and on about all the ways the world would meet its unavoidable end because to pricks decided to throw a pissing contest.</p><p>Shoving her hands in the pockets of her parka, Marlene went on a scavenger hunt for the most obscure shop she could find. She'd also pulled up the hood of the jacket underneath to insure a total anonymity. Get that, security cameras.</p><p>Marley steered away from crowded streets and big companies, eyes downcast every time she couldn't avoid the collision. It was pretty exhausting, being a fugitive. And also time consuming, because it had taken her twice the time it would've normally only to find a reasonably empty store.</p><p>She was so on edge, even a ring of the bell above the door startled the crap out of her. Making sure no one'd seen that, Marley took a grocery basket and headed straight for the isle with sweets. With all the Apocalypse talks, it would take an ungodly amount of carbs to keep her serotonin levels from dropping.</p><p>It was nice. Marlene could imagine she was just a regular, law-abiding citizen, out for a stroll and some shopping. She had a thesis due, friends to have drinks with after work and an exam she had yet to prepare for. Marley put some Doritos into the basket, a can of soda and some water, per Sam's request.</p><p>It was funny, Marlene thought.</p><p>She'd gone to Palo Alto five years ago to visit a friend at Stanford. They'd gone to a party, had some drinks with her friends — Biology majors, who were trying to figure out how much shots of vodka it would take to get into the perfect state of inebriation.</p><p>Had Sam been there? Under different circumstances, their paths might've easily crossed.</p><p>The bell rang again, but Marley didn't look up this time. She was trying to decide whether she should've bought some beer. Since she looked fifteen, they'd probably ask for an ID. And she couldn't very well use hers. Marley put the pack of beer back into the fridge and headed to the checkout counter.</p><p>"Thanks, Marty. Could ya give me a pack of Winstons?" A police officer walked over to the register.</p><p>Marlene lurched to a stop in the missile of the isle. The man was obviously a regular — just her luck, apparently — and wasn't going to leave quickly. He exchanged some words with "Marty" the cashier. They both laughed.</p><p>"Fucking police," Marley muttered, dropped the basket and hurried out of the store as inconspicuously as possible. Couldn't he have gone for freaking cigarettes to literally any other place in the area? The prick.</p><p>God, how could it be her life? Jumpy fugitive with unfinished higher education with a cult leader for a father. The last time she'd seen him, he'd taken Zachariah side and locked her in her room. Was he still alive after what she'd done? Marlene didn't even want to entertain the other possibility. Her father couldn't be dead. He just...couldn't.</p><p>She trudged back in the direction of the motel and spotted a payphone by the mental walkway across the street. Marley glanced back at the motel, then at the payphone again.</p><p>She quickened her step before she could change her mind and got into the booth. Fumbling in her pockets for 50 cents, Marley eased out a couple of coins and put them into the slot. Her hands were shaking as she dialled the number.</p><p>A ring. Two rings. Five rings. Her heart was thumping in her chest, images of Arthur's lifeless body with holes where his brown eyes used to be flooding her head. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't —</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>Her eyes prickled with tears at the sound of the familiar voice. Marlene gripped the phone tighter, stifling a whimper. She wanted to say something so badly, to tell him that she was alright, but it was impossible. She'd be putting herself, Sam and Dean in danger.</p><p>Arthur breathed, "Ma — " Marley put the phone down, ending the call before he managed to say her name. It was a stupid thing to do, but he was alive. That's all that mattered.</p><p>No Michael sword and no water, she plodded wearily along the walkway and noticed a figure moving towards her. It was Sam. He walked with his head down, deep in thought. Dejected, even.</p><p>"Hey," Marley called.</p><p>Sam looked up. His face brightened a little when he saw her, "Good run?" he joked, noticing her hands were empty.</p><p>"An officer walked in. I didn't want to risk it," Marlene grumbled, "Where are you going?"</p><p>"There's an old library not far from here. Thought I'd go do some research, read some of the lore books."</p><p>Marley smiled. Now <em>that</em> was something she could do, "Want some help?"</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>Bobby had brought some pretty good books with him, but none of them were helpful. Dean was getting frustrated with the lack of progress and the fact that Sam still hadn't come back. And on top of all that bullshit, Marlene had gone MIA ever since her grocery run. Dean half expected to hear about her arrest on the news.</p><p>"So that girl, <em>Marlene</em>," there was something derisive in the way Bobby said her name, "She stayin' with ya?"</p><p>"I don't know. Maybe," Dean droned, scanning a page from his dad's journal.</p><p>Bobby let out a sigh, "Alright," he drawled.</p><p>Dean stopped reading, catching the familiar accusatory note in the old man's voice, "<em>What?</em>" He asked pointedly.</p><p>"Nothin'. You sure you can trust her?"</p><p>Dean looked up from the journal, "Are you saying I shouldn't?"</p><p>"I didn't say nothin'. But we don't know squat about that girl other that her daddy's real friendly with the angels."</p><p>"And that he and John knew each other."</p><p>"So you saw the photo?"</p><p>Dean nodded, "I don't remember much. But knowing dad, he must've really trusted the guy. That counts for somethin'."</p><p>"Well, yeah, he and your father had a common enemy."</p><p>Dean looked away, jaws clenched, "Azazel."</p><p>"His wife died in the hospital. But I betcha the girl got demon blood in her, too."</p><p>There was a beat of silence.</p><p>"I know," Dean said, "She told us."</p><p>Bobby cut a disbelieving look at him, "And you don't think that's suspicious? Seems like awful good timing to me."</p><p>"What do you mean?</p><p>"She pops up right when things go south and wants to be best pals?" he said sarcastically, "Should I remind you what triggered the Apocalypse, Dean?"</p><p>Dean shot him a warning look, "<em>Bobby</em>."</p><p>The old man let the subject go, and they lapsed into silence again. Dean tried to go back to research but couldn't stop thinking about Bobby's words. They'd found a dark corner in his mind and begun to scratch on the walls.</p><p>"I never would have guessed that your daddy was right," Bobby said after some time.</p><p>"About what?"</p><p>"About your brother. About <em>their</em> kind."</p><p>Dean looked up at him.</p><p>"What John said — you save Sam or kill him. Maybe..." Bobby trailed off.</p><p>"Maybe what?" Dean asked harshly.</p><p>"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."</p><p>Dean shook his head, "Bobby..."</p><p>"He ended the world, Dean," the old man said, "And you and I weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on <em>us</em>. I'm just saying...your dad was right. We can't let that girl — "</p><p>But Dead wasn't listening anymore. His face went slack with a sudden realisation, "Dad," he whispered.</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>Dean shot up from the desk and rummaged through his bag. He eased out a plastic ziplock full of John's old fake IDs and other useless plastic cards and began to look through them, "It's got to be in here somewhere," Dean muttered.</p><p>"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked.</p><p>Dean finally found the one he'd been looking for. "Here," he read it and puffed out an amazed laugh, "I don't believe it." Bobby stood up when Dean came over to the desk. "I don't believe it," he shook his head.</p><p>"What the hell is it?"</p><p>"It's a card. For my dad's lockup in upstate New York," Dean handed it to Bobby, "Read it."</p><p>"Castle Storage. 42 Rover...Hill," he looked at Dean, confused.</p><p>"Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs," Dean said pointedly to stress the connection between the address and Chuck's prophecy.</p><p>"So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?" Bobby asked, incredulous.</p><p>"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant."</p><p>"Yeah..." Bobby nodded, thinking about it, "Okay. It's good enough for me." Dean hadn't noticed the sudden change in his voice.</p><p>The blow came out of nowhere. Bobby knocked Dean through the barrier between the beds and the kitchen area and advanced towards him. He hadn't fully registered what happened until Bobby yanked him up by the shirt and slamed him into the closet.</p><p>And when Dean finally managed to look up, he saw Bobby towering before him.</p><p>His eyes were pitch-black.</p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p>"This is insane," Marley proclaimed, leaning back into the criminally uncomfortable chair, "I think Chuck is insane. His lovesick <em>emissary</em> is insane, too. And I'm going to go insane very soon."</p><p>Sam laughed from his own station, scrolling through a numerology website on the library computer. "And here I thought you were Chuck's fan. Or should I say, a fan of his <em>work</em>?"</p><p>Marley stilled. "Why would you think that?"</p><p>"Marlene," Sam turned to her, barely able to contain a smile, "I saw the books."</p><p>"You did?" He nodded. Marlene sighed, exposed and put to shame for her crimes, "Well... what can I say? I love a good story. It was a great prequel for the whole Apocalypse thing."</p><p>Clearly, Sam didn't agree, "These books are..."</p><p>"A total violation of privacy?" Marley supplied, "I mean, there are some pretty steamy chapters."</p><p>Sam cleared his throat, and returned his attention to the computer, "Hey, get this:<em> "The meaning of the number 42 is derived from its direct connection to the coming Antichrist,</em>" he read out and turned to Marlene, "Pretty close to home to be a coincidence."</p><p>Intrigued, she rose from her seat and came over to Sam, looking at the screen over his shoulder, ""<em>It is prophesied that for 42 months the Beast will hold dominion over the Earth". </em>So the number's somehow connected to Lucifer?<em>"</em></p><p>"Possibly. I mean, if we know about Michael sword, the demons are probably looking for it too," Sam said.</p><p>Marley's eyes lit up with an epiphany. She remembered reading about it in the Book of Revelation and went back to the desk to pick it up. Marlene flipped through the pages until she find the verse she was looking for. "Here," Marley pointed to it when Sam came over, "<em>"Rise and measure the temple of God and the altar and those who worship there, but do not measure the court outside the temple; leave that out, for it is given over to the nations, and they will trample the holy city for forty-two months," </em>she read and then added from memory, turning to Sam, "<em>And he was given a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies, and he was given authority to continue for forty-two months."</em></p><p>Sam looked impressed, "You can quote Bible from memory?"</p><p>"My father is a theologist. Those were my bedtime stories."</p><p>"That...is certainly original," Sam chuckled.</p><p>Marley sat down on the corner of the desk. "Yeah, it was alright."</p><p>There was beat of silence before Sam spoke again, "So, what, it would take him forty-two months to destroy the world?"</p><p>"I mean, Lucifer is an overachiever. I'm sure he could do it a little faster than that," Marley joked, earning a smile from Sam, "But that's what the Book says. He was <em>given</em> authority. Remind you of something?"</p><p>His face darkened. Of course it did. If it hadn't been for Zachariah, Lucifer would've still been locked in the cage, burning in the deepest pits of hell. Or if it hadn't been for <em>him</em>.</p><p>"But it still doesn't make much sense. You said it yourself, it's too on the nose. The dogs, the hill the castle — it's obviously a code for something."</p><p>But Sam wasn't really listening to her. His was somewhere else, eyes looking but unseeing, stuck in a limbo of self-deprecation inside his mind. Marley saw the pain reflected on his weary face — he hadn't slept through one night since that day.</p><p>"Hey, how about we get out of here?" She jumped off the desk.</p><p>Sam looked at her in bewilderment, "And go where?"</p><p>"I don't know," Marlene shrugged and grabbed her coat, "Somewhere. Preferably, where there's no police. Come <em>on</em>, Sam. We've only got, like, 42 months left."</p><p>Sam shook his head at her, smiling. "Alright. Let's go."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. A Certain Doom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 10 / A Certain Doom</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Book of Revelation 12:9</p><hr/><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene and Sam stopped at the entrance to an old building, gazing up at the cross hanging above its door. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"A church?" Sam deadpanned and glanced over at Marley, "Are you serious?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She tugged on his arm, "Come on."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Marlene — "</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Come <em>on</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley dragged him inside, despite his very vocal reluctance, which wasn't an easy feat, considering he could easily crush her with her measly 5'4. The church was almost empty, safe for a few parishioners that had decided to say their prayers in the late afternoon. It was peaceful and quiet, a smell of wax and frankincense lingering in the air.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene sat down on a bench in the back and pulled Sam down next to her. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I don't think that a church is the best place for us to be right now," he whispered and then smiled at the passing priest. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Don't you believe in God?" Marley asked, scandalised, "Come on, relax. No one's going to look for us here. It would be way too obvious."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Her words did little to subdue Sam's paranoia. Hands locked between his thighs, he tried his hardest to appear relaxed, but everything: from his rigid posture to his constant looking around betrayed the sense of acute unease. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"My father took me to church every Sunday. It wasn't a spiritual thing. More like...research," Marley spoke softly, eyes fixed on the altar. She could feel Sam's eyes on her, "When we came home, he'd always give me those...those <em>lectures</em> on the corruption of religious institutions and how one didn't need to go to church to feel connected to God. He — um, he believed that it was all a papal hoax to receive generous donations. A transaction like any other." Sam noticed a slight change in her face, a sadness creeping into its expression. "I hated the things he said, I felt...felt they were a bit ignorant, you know? Plus, I liked going to church. And it wasn't because it made me feel closer to God, because, frankly, I'm still not sold on the guy," Sam chuckled at that, "but because it made me feel closer to <em>people</em>. Just take a look around."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam swept her his over the church where a woman was praying at the alter, a young mother was fixing up her kid's tie, probably for his first confession, a man just sitting there in absolute peace. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"They all come here to feel part of something. To feel better. To feel human," Marley said, "My mom was like that. Perhaps, that's why my father lost faith in everything."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam cleared his throat, "My, uh...my father didn't believe in much, either. There was the road and the job, and that's it. He'd be pretty disappointed in me right now," he huffed out a derisive chuckle. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sorry," Marlene said quietly, "About everything." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah. Me too."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, don't get me wrong — you fucked up." Her suddenly harsh words startled Sam, breaking him out of his own misery. She turned to him, "You did, Sam. But that already happened, you can't change it. Perhaps, Zachariah would've found a way to kill Lilith without you, perhaps not and you did him a solid — none of that matters anymore. Because you're going to fix the hell out of it. " Marley said, looking straight into Sam's slightly baffled eyes, "You're not the same man, this is not the same river, but you're gonna cannon jump your ass right into it and make some splash."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam stared at her, his face a mix between absolute confusion and amusement. "Was that Heraclitus?" he finally said, cracking a smile.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, that's Marlene."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Huh, I could've sworn it was Heraclitus." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You'd better brush up on your Greek philosophy, Shallow Alto," Marley teased. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam burst out laughing and she followed suit. They both received some displeased looks from the priest. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What kind of insult is that?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You've never heard that one? We Yalies say all kinds of terrible things about you guys."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"And you call yourself <em>Yalies</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley laughed, "It does sound pretty dumb, doesn't it."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">After some time, Sam seemed to loosen up a little and embrace the tranquility. Marlene watched him watch people, his eyes filled with a sorrow and torment that made her chest heavy. He looked like he didn't belong here. Like he didn't have the right to be within these walls, with these people. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Why did you start drinking demon blood?" Marlene asked. There was no accusation in her voice, just genuine interest. Sam whipped his head to her, surprised by the sudden question. "I mean, I know <em>why</em>, I read the books...but still — why, Sam?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam breathed out a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, head bowed, "When Dean died, all I wanted was to kill Lilith. And I know that saying"I wasn't myself" does not justify it, but, Marlene — <em>I wasn't myself</em>," he looked at her pleadingly, "I was lost and Ruby gave me a purpose. Suddenly, the thing that made me a monster gave me the power to actually <em>help</em> people."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene wondered if that made her a monster, too. Was she — was <em>he</em> — somehow unclean just because their blood had been tainted all those years ago? </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"But then...then it became different. It wasn't about Dean or Lilith, or Ruby anymore, it was about <em>me</em>. It made me feel good. Made me feel <em>strong</em>. And I still..." Sam let out a humourless laugh and shook his head, "I still think about it." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Thoughts pass, Sam. No feeling is final," Marley told him reassuringly, "It's if you act on them that matters."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam breathed with a wane smile, his eyes a little vacant. "I think we'd better go back now. See if Dean and Bobby figured anything out."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">They walked to the motel in silence. It was getting dark outside, which provided Marley with a perfect cover, and so she dropped her hood to enjoy the fresh caress of the evening breeze. She spotted a new car parked outside their room — the same one she'd seen at Bobby's back in South Dakota. So <em>that</em> was the Baby Dean was talking about. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It looks so...vintage," Marlene said as kindly as possible. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam smiled, "Just don't say that to Dean." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But as Marlene and Sam got closer to the room, they could hear strange noises coming from the inside. Sam pushed Marley behind him, a wary look on his face, and opened the door. "No!" he suddenly screamed. Staggered, Marlene followed his eyes and saw Bobby lying on the floor, bleeding. And molten, hellish demonic faces. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam darted forward to rush to Bobby's side, but was pushed back into the wall. A petite brunette smirked at him, "Heya, Sammy. You miss me?" Then her eyes flashed to Marley, who was still standing in the threshold. The smile widened , "Apparently not." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Meg?" Sam breathed in shock. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The demone grinned. With a feral curl to his mouth, Sam launched himself at her and swung a fist, but Meg dodged it and landed a blow at his crotch, knocking Sam to the ground. The other man — the <em>demon</em> — was at Dean's throat while Bobby was bleeding out on the floor, and Marley just stood there, frozen with shock.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?" Meg jeered and looked at Marlene with a predatory smile, "Why so shy, sweetheart?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">It did well to shake her our of the stupor. Marley stormed inside the room to get to her bag, but Meg was quicker. She grabbed Marlene by the hair, pulling her back, "I think I wanna keep her, Sammy." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene screamed out when she felt a sharp knife run down the skin of her throat. She tried to break free of the demon's grasp, but every sharp movement made the pain in her skull worse. "Oh, she's a real catch," Meg taunted. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">While the demon was busy with her newest toy, Sam rose to his feat and attacked her from the behind, catching her by surprise. Meg let go of Marlene's hair and turned to Sam with a snarl, charging on him again. It gave Marley enough time to get the bag. With trembling fingers, she took out the plastic pouch filled with green powder.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Meg lifted Sam by the collar of his jacket and landed a series of punches on his face, making it a bloody mess. And it didn't look like she was finished. Heart thumping in her ears, Marlene spilled the powder into her palm, whispered the incantation and yelled, "Hey, you bitch!" Meg looked back, but before she could say anything snappy, Marley blew the powder straight into her muzzle. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The demon screamed out in pain, her skin sizzling. It was then that Dean pulled the knife out of Bobby's stomach and stabbed the male demon with it. When his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, Dean stood up and advanced on Meg, who was doubling in pain on the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The demon screamed, her mouth stretching wide open as smoke shot out of it, leaving behind only a limp body. </span>
</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p6">Dean and Sam burst into a busy emergency room, <span class="s1">carrying Bobby's limp body. "Need some help here!" Dean yelled out in panic. Bobby couldn't die. They would figure something out, they always did.</span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">A nurse rushed over to them and ran her eyes over the wound, "What happened?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He was stabbed," Sam told her. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She turned to her colleagues, "Can we get a gurney?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Hang on, Bobby. Hang in there," Dean was telling him, "You're gonna be okay." The nurses got Bobby onto the gurney and he was rushed off towards the surgery unit. Sam, Dean and Marley tried to follow after them, but were stopped at the door. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The nurse turned to them, blocking the door, "Just wait here." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam shuffled restlessly, "We can't just leave him."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Just don't move," she said, giving them a warning look, "I've got questions." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Sammy, we got to go," Dean said as soon as the nurse was gone. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam shook his head, "No. No way, Dean."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"The demons heard where the sword is," Dean whispered, "We got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already. Come on!" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Go." They both turned to Marlene who had been dead silent the entire ride to the hospital, "Go, I'm going to stay with him." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam eyed her with hesitation, "Marlene — "</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You heard her," Dean told him, "Come on." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene watched the two brothers run down the hall and disappear in the sea of medical personnel.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But Sam threw one last look at her. Only she hadn't seen it. </span>
</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">They drove up to the storage facility, a bright neon sign painting the dark, empty street in blues and reds. <span class="s1">Dean opened the trunk and threw a gun to Sam. In foreboding silence, they reloaded their weapons and walked in. </span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam stood watch while Dean was unlocking the door. It opened with a dull creak, revealing two dead bodies sprawled across the Devil's trap on the floor. Judging by the stink of sulphur, demons had already paid a visit. Sam and Dean went inside, cautiously looking around with their weapons at the ready. The bastards had rummaged through their father's storage room, alright. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"See you told the demons where the sword is," a familiar voice spoke from the shadows. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean and Sam turned to face Zachariah and his escort. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, thank god," Dean sighed sarcastically, "The angels are here." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"And to think..." Zachariah walked closer, stepping over a demon's body, "...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." He waved a hand to close the door and looked at Dean again, "It was right in front of them."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam's brows twitched towards each other, "What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We <em>did</em> lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it," Zachariah's lips widened into an overly-pleased smile, "Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean stood taller, "We don't have anything."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Zachariah sighed, marvelling that he even needed to say it out loud, "It's you, chucklehead," he told Dean, "You're the Michael sword."</span>
</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">The dorms were pretty busy in the evening <span class="s1">— it was a Friday night, and the folks were going out to celebrate their freedom before spending an entire weekend in the library. Maddock should've met Marlene downstairs an <em>hour ago</em> and the idiot hadn't showed up. </span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She banged on his door, "Open up, Maddy! You unpunctual trust fund turd!" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Maddock opened the door, and Marley stepped inside like a hurricane, pushing him away, "What's wrong with you? I called, like, a gazillion times." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"How many millions is that?" he retorted cockily, closing the door. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Too many," Marley grumbled and noticed that Maddock was still wearing his sweatpants and the Yale Bulldog's shirt. She gave him a once-over, brows raised, "You're wearing that? Your game is <em>not</em> that strong, Maddy."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He scratched his head and yawned, "Where are we going?" Maddock opened a drawer and took out a blunt. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Out</em>," Marlene plumped down on his unmade bed, "I've been writing that blasted essay on John Adams for ages, I need a breath of life." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Maddock chuckled and took a long drag. He handed the blunt to Marley, "None for me," she shook her head, "So where's Tessa? I thought you guys were — what? Why are you looking at me like that? Oh, my God, did you break up?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Marlene..." Maddock said slowly, like she was insane, "Tessa died." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley scoffed in disbelief,"What? Maddock, this is not funny, what are y —"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Tessa's dead. Don't you remember?" he crouched before her, looking up at her staggered face, "You killed her."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She jumped off the bed, pushing him away, "What is wrong with you?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Me?" Maddock laughed, "You killed your friend, Marlene. You're a <em>killer</em>." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Stop," she whispered, her vision becoming blurred, "Stop saying that!"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Maddock advanced on Marlene, forcing her to stumbled back, "Why? Because you can't handle the truth?" he hissed, pushing her to the door.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I didn't kill her!"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh yes, you did, you ruthless little midget," Maddock would never say something like that. He didn't even sound like Maddock anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What are you?" Marlene asked in a shaky voice.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Maddock smiled — it looked wrong. Then his face changed, morphing into someone she hadn't expected to see. Sam was staring down at her, the same dimples appearing on his cheeks. But his eyes...his eyes were cold, malicious, predatory. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against Marley's ear, "Wouldn't you like to find out?" </span>
</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene woke up to the beeping sound of the life-support machines. Bobby was still unconscious, his heart beating at a steady rhythm. Unlike Marley's, that was thumping in her chest like crazy. </span>
  <em>Wouldn't you like to find out?</em>
</p><p class="p6">She shivered from the mere memory of the voice. It was like she could still feel Sam's breath tickling her skin, his soulless eyes that glimmered crimson. She had dreamed it <span class="s1">— of that, Marley was certain. Then why had it felt so real?</span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"> Stifling a yawn, she closed her father's journal — enough of that. She'd fallen asleep reading the chapter about her grandfather. It was certainly not the most riveting read, nor the most entertaining. Arthur had very little to say about the man. Anything positive, anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Excuse me, miss?" Marley turned to the door — it was the nurse that had admitted Bobby, "Can I talk to you outside?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"><em>Shit</em>, Marlene cursed and rose from the chair, leaving Arthur's journal on the coffee table. She followed the nurse into the corridor.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Is everything okay?" Marley asked. She felt skittish out there, in the open. What if there were cops around? Or TVs with another story about a runaway Yale student? With all the shit going on in the world, they sure managed to fit her in there. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I just need you to answer a couple of questions."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley nodded, "Of course." </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s1">The nurse took out a pen and brought it to the notepad, </span>"What's the name of the patient?"</p><p class="p6">"Ro <span class="s1">— oss, it's Ross. Ross Greene. He's my, uh, he's my uncle." </span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"How did he receive the stab wound?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Good grief</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He...he was working in the shed. Yeah, there was all of that..." Marley made a vague gesture, "...stuff that they usually have in sheds? You know like nails, wood, b-beer..." she tapered off, noticing that the nurse was getting suspicious, "Um, he was sharpening knives and just...tripped over a sn — chainsaw." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The woman looked up from the notepad with a frown, "A chainsaw?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Guess his guardian angel was looking the other way, huh?" Marlene said with a nervous chuckle. But the nurse didn't find it funny. Marley cleared her throat, "So, um, is he going to be okay?</span>
</p><p class="p6">"It's too early to say. He needs to wake up before we can make any assessments," the nursed told her. Marlene nodded, glancing at Bobby, "Miss, what's your name?"</p><p class="p6">"Sorry?"</p><p class="p6">"I need to fill out the report. It's protocol," she explained, "I need your name."</p><p class="p6">"Oh, I...I'm Lilly. Lilly Adams."</p><p class="p6">The nurse scribbled something in her papers, "And the gentlemen who brought your uncle in?"</p><p class="p6">"I d <span class="s1">— "</span></p><p class="p6">
  <em>Attention, code blue, third floor, corridor two, room three-eleven. I repeat, code blue to all medical staff. Third floor, corridor two, room three-eleven....</em>
</p><p class="p6">The nurse put the notepad away, "Please, stay here," she told Marlene and hurried down the hall towards the staircase. Marley's brows shot up. She glanced at the ceiling. Saved by the bell, indeed.</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p11">
  <b>Entry from December, 2000</b>
</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p11">
  <em>When I dream, I dream about Sophia </em>
</p><p class="p11">
  <em>I dream about knowing her </em>
</p><p class="p11">
  <em>Loving her </em>
</p><p class="p11">
  <em>And losing her all over again </em>
</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene had been staring at that page for almost half an hour. It was blank but for those four lines, and the next one was blank, too. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">With a theologist for a father that had taken it upon himself to debunk anything remotely otherworldly, which, in retrospect, was nothing but gaslighting, there was one thing Marley couldn't help but believe in. Love. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But while others believed in the <em>beauty</em> of love, Marlene believed in its destructive power. She saw it in her father — the pain of loss, all those years later. Sometimes she feared that Arthur longed to see his wife so badly, he could actually take the final plunge into the unknown. Like Heathcliff, haunted by the ghost of his beloved, driven mad by it. So mad, he was ready to let millions die for the chance to see her again — </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, balls..." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes shot up from the journal. "Mr.Singer?" Marlene instantly put it away and rushed over to Bobby's bed, "Mr.Singer?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You'll call me that when I'm dead, girl," he grumbled, barely lucid, "And I ain't dead yet." Bobby tried to lift himself up, an attempt that resulted in a wince. Marlene helped him a little, adjusting the pillows. It seemed that it's only then that he realised it was her, "What're <em>you</em> doin' here?" Bobby rasped out.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Well, hello to you, too," Marley drawled sarcastically. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Bobby frowned to himself, growing visibly alarmed, "What the hell?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What is it?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I can't feel my freaking legs — "</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The door opened, and Dean walked in, with Sam in taw. When Marlene saw him, she quickly looked away. "You alright?" Dean asked and then stopped, noticing that something was off, "What's wrong?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He can't feel his legs," Marlene told him. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean was about to say something, but Bobby beat him to it, "Screw it, they'll be fine," he grumbled and looked at Dean and Sam, "You'd better tell me what the hell you boys been up to."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley noticed Sam step aside a little, as if trying to make himself scarce. She frowned at that. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Well, we did find the Michael sword," said Dean. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene quirked a sceptical brow, "In a castle on a hill made of forty-two dogs?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Turned out you were right, it <em>was</em> a code for something," Sam told her. His voice sent a shiver down her spine. "</span>
  <em>Wouldn't you like to find out?" </em>
  <span class="s1">"Our father's storage room." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"So where is it? That <em>sword?</em>" asked Bobby. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam and Dean exchanged wary looks. "That's the thing. There is no sword," Dean said. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I <em>knew</em> it," Marlene exclaimed to everyone's annoyance, "What?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He cut her an unimpressed glare and continued, "Because <em>I</em> am the sword."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What?" Bobby asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Apparently, I'm Michael's vessel. His <em>weapon</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene's brows twitched together, "So why hasn't he hijacked your body yet?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He's an angel," Sam replied, "They can't do it without your consent."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"And I sure as hell ain't giving it. Harry and Sally meet, millions of people die — " </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Good evening, Mister Greene...." A doctor strolled into the room, nose stuck in a chart. When he looked up from it, he started at seeing so many people inside, "You've quite the company, I see," the man's jovial smile came in comical contrast with Bobby's displeased expression.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Mister Greene?</em>" Dean frowned, confused.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley stepped forward, "Yes," she gave him a pointed look, "My uncle Ross." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam cleared his throat, "So, what's the prognosis, doc?"</span>
</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Unlikely to walk again"?!" Bobby yelled, red in the face, "Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" The doctor fled through the door, seeking immediate escape, the chart clutched tightly in his hands. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!" Bobby looked over at Sam and Dean, "You believe that yahoo?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Screw him. You'll be fine," Dean said gruffly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam looked away. "So, let me ask the million-dollar question," he huffed out a grim laugh and glanced at Bobby, "What do we do now?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Well..." the old man considered it, "We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's <em>bad</em>. Whoever wins, heaven <em>or</em> hell, we're boned."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What if we win?" Sam turned to Dean, surprised at his sudden burst of confidence, misplaced or not. Bobby narrowed his eyes at him. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Look," Marley said, "It's always good to stay positive, but, Dean — " </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I'm <em>serious</em>. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it," Dean walked to the other side of the room, "We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean turned to them with a shrug, "I got no idea." Marley scoffed, earning a stink-eye from him. Sam watched them with a rather sceptical expression, "But what I <em>do</em> have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"This doesn't sound fatal at all," Marlene said, "No red flags when you're blind, isn't that right, Dean?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He sent her an annoyingly confident smile. She shook her head. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby told him good-naturedly. Judging by the look on his face, Marley would say he was...proud. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean considered it and shrugged, "It's been said."</span>
</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"> For the first time in a very long time, things seemed...together. In a very chaotic, unsettling sense. A little haven in the eye of the storm before shit hit the fan and the world was either obliterated or made into a playground for two narcissistic celestial beings. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Before that happened, though, there was still life to be lived. And life to be born, Marlene reminded herself as she looked at the dozens of cots filled with newborns in the maternity ward. Those were the real angels — innocent souls, untainted by greed, jealousy or hatred. Clueless to the fate of the world they'd been born into. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"They are perfect," a voice spoke beside her. Marlene would've screamed had she not stood near sleeping babies. She turned and saw..."All made in God's image." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Castiel?" she breathed in shock. The same freaking beige trench coat, the same spiked hair..." You're alive?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The angel gave a solemn nod, "I am."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"But Chuck said you died, that the Archangel — " Marley broke off; she didn't want to repeat Chuck's words. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I did," Castiel replied serenely.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Then how are you alive?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"How are all of them?" Cass said, looking at the newborn babies, "How are Dean and Sam?" He turned to Marlene, "By God's will." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She glanced at him quizzically, "God? You saw him?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I did not. But he made himself known to me." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene didn't know how to process that information. Demons she'd got used to, angels, too. But <em>God? </em></span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He brought me back and put Sam and Dean on that plane," Castiel told her, and then added, curious, "How did <em>you</em> manage to escape death?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Gabriel," Marlene answered plainly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Ah," Cass nodded in understanding, "Sam and Dean still don't know," it was a statement rather than a question.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Nope."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Why haven't you told them?" </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s1">Marley snorted, "Cause there're two Archangels out there trying to kill each other and millions of people in the process? Isn't the ideal time for the grand reveal, don't you think? And </span>it doesn’t matter who bang who thousands of years ago," she said, "I'm not defined by my frolicking ancestors.”</p><p class="p6">"They must know the truth, Marlene," Castiel spoke after a beat of silence, his voice grave, "And it's better that it comes from you."</p><p class="p6">"I know," Marley sighed, "But <span class="s1">— </span>I don't even know who I am. <em>What</em> I am. How can I confess to something I don't understand? I need time," she turned to Castiel, "To learn more about it. About my family. The curse."</p><p class="p6">"Time is not something we have right now, Marlene."</p><p class="p6">One of the children broke out in soul-wracking cries. A nurse rushed to coddle him. Marlene watched them with a detached expression on her face, "<span class="s3">Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today," she quoted Mother Theresa, "So let us begin</span><span class="s4">."</span></p><p class="p13">
  <span class="s1">Marlene had to admit that there was solace in certainty. </span>
</p><p class="p13">
  <span class="s1">Even if it was doom. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Catfishing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 11 / Catfishing </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1">Enemies disguise themselves with their lips, but in their hearts they harbor deceit. " </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Proverbs, 26:24</p><hr/><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene took her caramel latte from the coffee machine, trying not to burn her fingers. She didn't have a great record with plastic cups and hot beverages. Especially at hospitals with TVs on every corner and her face flooding the news. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">With the much needed shot of caffeine, Marley walked back to Bobby's room. He'd been silent all morning, staring out of the window with a detached expression. Bobby was getting better, his wound was healing up nicely, but Marlene figured that no amount of good news could make up for what he'd lost.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She spotted Sam and Dean by the door, glancing over at Bobby, whispering. She squinted at them, "What are you two gossiping about?" her eyes fell on the manila envelop in Dean's hands, "What's this?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He opened the envelope and took out a couple of scans, "Went to radiology. Got some glamour shots," Dean handed them to Sam, "Let's just say the doctors are baffled." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley moved closer to him to take a look. It was a chest X-ray, with eerily familiar sigils carved on the ribs.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Holy crap," Sam muttered, examining the Enochian writing. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"How did <em>that</em> happen?" Marley asked.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Angelic tattoo parlour," Dean deadpanned, "Cas can carve you one too. Supposed to hide you from angels. Even Lucifer."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Yeah, Marley wanted to tell him, there's no need for that. Hadn't been for 22 years, "Well, that's effective," she said, taking the last look on the X-rays. That was <em>beyond</em> weird. And painful, probably. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam's phone rang. He returned the scans to Dean and answered, "Hello? ...Castiel?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Speak of the angel," Marlene muttered. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, St. Martin's Hospital," Sam glanced at Dean in confusion, "Why? What are you — Cas? Hello?" But the angel had already hung up. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Not a moment later, a tall figure clad in a trench coat cut through a crowd of medical personnel like Moses crossing the Red Sea. "I wonder what provider he's using," Marley said as Castiel walked over to them. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Cell phone, Cas? Really?" Dean turned to him, "Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're hidden from angels now — all angels," Castiel told them, "I won't be able to simply —" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Enough foreplay," Bobby's grumbled from the room. Dean, Sam, Marlene and Castiel looked over at him. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." When no one made a move to go inside, Bobby looked over his shoulder, "Get healing. <em>Now.</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Castiel lowered his eyes, "I can't."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Bobby turned slowly in his chair to face him, "Say again?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I'm cut off from Heaven and much of Heaven's power," Cas walked into the room, "Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene didn't know that. She'd never thought how much Castiel must've sacrificed to help them. Hell, he had given his <em>life</em> to do the right thing. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sorry," Cass said with genuine remorse.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Shove it up your ass," Bobby spat and turned back to the window. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene flinched on the angel's behalf. <em>So much for trying to help</em>. Dean looked at her and Sam, "At least he's talking now," he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I heard that," Bobby barked. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Castiel walked back to them, "I don't have much time," he said quietly, "We need to talk."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Okay," Dean frowned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Your plan to kill Lucifer."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Pretty generous to call it a "plan"," Marley mumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean cut her a glare, then turned to Cass again, "Yeah. You want to help?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No. It's foolish. It can't be done."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene made a face as if to say "<em>Thank you. Good thing someone agrees with me.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, thanks for the support," Dean told him sarcastically. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer." Marley listened closely, intrigued, "Strong enough to stop the Apocalypse."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Who's that?" asked Sam. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Cas turned to him, "The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything." After a suspenseful pause, Castiel finally said, "God." Marlene couldn't say she was surprised. Not after what he had told her the other day, about the big guy making himself known him and saving his life. Still, hearing Cas actually say it out loud and with such a resolute expression, made it sound impossible, if not altogether <em>unbelievable</em>. "I'm gonna find God."</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene was standing outside of the hospital and enjoying the sun, something she did very rarely these days. It's funny how the simplest things became a luxury when you're an outlaw. She should someday write a book about it. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The doors slid open and Dean and Sam walked out, their expressions grim and resolute. It appeared that one of Bobby's good friends had got himself into one hell of a pickle and needed help. And since Bobby couldn't really march down to Colorado, he sent Sam and Dean to check out what'd happened.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So," Dean said, "You coming with us?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene looked up at the sun, squinting, then back at the boys, "No. I think...I think I've got some stuff to do," she nodded to herself as if only now realising it. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"What <em>"stuff?</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Fake ID? Fake driver's license? Fake <em>life?</em>" Marley shrugged, "Bobby said some guy in Texas makes good counterfeits, so I'll probably head there."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alone?" Sam asked, concerned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes? I've been on my own for almost a <em>month</em>. It's been going fine so far."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You've made it to the federal "wanted" list and witnessed the beginning of the Apocalypse," Dean deadpanned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene sighed, "Look, I need to go. I can't be your third Musketeer. Because first of all, I can't even hold a saber and secondly, I don't want to die," she looked at Sam and Dean, "I gotta do it, guys."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean gave her a highly sceptical look. Sam was visibly worried and turned to his brother to share his silent doubts about this decision. Marlene felt like she was asking her dads to let her go to the school dance. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," Dean finally said and tossed her his car keys, "Take the rental." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley barely caught them and was about to thank him, but it wasn't over yet. Dean reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. Her eyes went wide. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Are you insane?" Marlene whisper-yelled, looking around in paranoia. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Just take it," Dean extended the gun to her, "Your mambo jambo powder ain't gonna help you. You're gonna need this."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"He's right, Marlene," Sam said, "You need to have a weapon."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Begrudgingly, if only to hide it, Marley grabbed the gun and shoved it into her bag, "Thanks," her hands were still shaking from holding a weapon. It felt colder than she'd expected. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean padded her on the shoulder, "Don't get lost, kiddo," he said and started walking to his beloved Baby. It was just Marlene and Sam now.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She smiled up at him, squinting from the sun, "See you around, Sam." Marley didn't know why she did it. Why she felt the urge to lean closer to him for a hug. But when she realised how strange it was, when she remembered the red of his eyes from the dream...Marlene stopped mid-way and extended her hand for a handshake instead.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam shook it, baffled, "See you around, Marlene." His hand was big and warm engulfing Marley's. It reminded her of a baseball glove — enormous, yet comforting. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Shielding her eyes from the sun, Marley watched him walk to the car. Sam opened the door and looked back at her one last time before getting inside.</span>
</p><p class="p5">And then they drove away.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The Impala drove down an empty road, nothing but a stretch of burnt out ground to look at. Some Mötley Crew song was playing on the radio, but no one was singing along to it. Both Sam and Dean knew that the sudden spike in demon activity had everything to do with their master walking the Earth in some poor bastard's meat suit. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So, Bobby said some interesting stuff about Marlene," Dean said. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam turned to him, "What?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Her father's been dancing a handsy tango with the angels. Bobby thinks he gave them something they wanted and got himself and Marlene a place in holy Pleasentville." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned, "Why wouldn't Marlene be going to Heaven?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Hell if I know," Dean said gruffly, "But it's all kinds of fishy."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene'd said that her father was a professor, a theologist. He didn't sound like the evil mastermind they were making him out to be. But then again, Sam had never met the guy. And he should know that the darkest evil dwelled in the most unsuspecting souls, "What do you think he gave them?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No idea, but it must've been one hell of an offering. Sending Cas for Marlene? Busting their asses off to get her back?" Dean glanced over at his brother, "I'm telling you Sammy, something ain't right here." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So you think she's hiding something?" Sam asked. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"She <em>did</em> lie about the demon blood."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"But she told us." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, <em>eventually</em>," Dean scoffed, "After the freaking Apocalypse."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam turned away, "It's not like she started it, Dean."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"We don't know that. We don't know anything about her."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"She warned you about Lilith. She saved my life back in that room. Hell, she stayed with Bobby all night. Why is it so hard for you to trust people, Dean?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles going white, "Because someone's got to look out for us," he said. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam huffed out a mirthless laugh, shaking his head, "You still don't trust me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well, can you blame me, Sam?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam didn't say anything. They didn't speak a single word to each other the rest of the way. </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Thunder quaked the skies. A bright flash of lightening pierced through the veil of dark clouds. They were crying violently, tears flooding the streets of Hartford, a little town in Connecticut. A wild storm was raging in the deserted streets of a peaceful suburban street. It turned trees into monsters of shadows and droplets of rain into shuddering knocks on the window in the middle of the night.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>Imagination could make us see things that weren't there. But sometimes...sometimes, they </em>were<em> there, however desperately we wished it was only a stick of our mind. </em></span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Marlene found herself in the dark. It was a room, a living room in a strange, unfamiliar house. How had she got there? Panic suffused through her body, and Marley instantly reached for the gun in her belt, but it wasn't there.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A thump of thunder startled her. Marlene was never fond of stormy weather. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Wary and weaponless, she walked hesitantly, taking a look around. The house seemed to be empty, but for some toys on the floor and shelves stocked with books. It looked lived in, warm, welcoming. Marley made her way up the stairs to the second floor careful not to wake up whoever could be residing there.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But all doors seemed to be shut. Except for one. Warm light was spilling out of the little slit in the door at the very end of the corridor. Marlene made a cautious step towards it, careful not to make any sudden movements, and ever so slowly creaked it opened. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It was a nursery. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A soft lullaby was playing from a lamp that sent a carousel of animal shadows dancing on the walls. There was a cot in the corner, away from the window and the raging storm. And in that cot slept a little girl. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Marlene's knees buckled when she looked inside. She could recognise the face of the peacefully sleeping baby. Because that face belonged to her once. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Shhh...you're gonna wake her up."</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Marley whipped around at the voice. There was a strange man. He was wearing a dark shirt, sandy hair a neat mess. And his eyes...although she couldn't recognise them, she felt the familiar terror when she looked inside them. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"And she needs her beauty sleep," the man's voice was dangerously gentle. He walked closer. Marlene stumbled back to the window, "Are you afraid of me?"</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Who are you?" she asked. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Oh, but we've met so many times. Did you enjoy them? Because I did," he smiled, "Every. Single. One of them."</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Tessa, her father, Maddock...Sam. When Marlene looked at him, his eyes glowed crimson. She flinched back, shaking. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>"Oh, come on, we were having such a great time," he all but whined, "Don't go all jumpy on me. We're about to see a </em>show<em>."</em></span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Just as he said it, footsteps came from the corridor. Marlene's eyes flashed to the door when a dark figure appeared in the threshold. It stepped inside, into the light, and she wouldn't have recognised it but for the yellow eyes. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The demon, Azazel, made his way to the cot like a prowling predator. He looked inside and his lips stretched into a wide smile, "Well hello there, little angel," he whispered maliciously, "Master will be very, very pleased." </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Oh, almost my favourite part," the strange man sighed wistfully, arms crossed over his chest. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Marlene watched in silent horror as the demon cut his palm open and held it above the child's mouth. The little girl cooed, woken up from her sleep, "There we go." </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Now is my favourite part," the monster whispered, positively thrilled. A second later, a young man burst into the room, his face a picture of rage. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Get away from her!" he screamed.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Azazel turned back, his yellow eyes flashing in the dim light. He let out a surly chuckle, "You're too late, Arthur."</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Oh, fathers," the monster sighed, "They will do anything to protect their children, won't they?"</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"I said get away from her," the young Arthur greeted out.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Azazel raised a challenging brow, "Or what?"</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Or you're going back to Hell," Arthur brought a hand to his face and yelled an incantation in a language Marlene didn't recognise. But it seemed the demon was all to familiar with it, and before the spell could touch him, Azazel vanished in the cloud of blue smoke. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>All Marley couldn't hear was her own cry. Arthur rushed to the cot and took his daughter in his arms, pulling her close to him as she screamed in agony. As a disease began to spread through her frail little body. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>"Time to wake up, little angel."</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She sucked in a breath and shot up from the seat. Marlene looked around, frantic: she was still in her car, in a parking lot. It was dark outside, rain drumming on the windows. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">A wild storm was raging. </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Three days later</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Galveston, Texas</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Galveston smelled of fish, dampness and...fish. The smell of seafood was truly overpowering, especially for Marley, who wasn't a fan of anything with gills and fins. The scorching Texan heat certainly wasn't helping the matter and served only to make it a gazillion times worse.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It was especially bad at the docks where Marley'd just arrived. Bobby'd given her the address and the name of the guy, saying that he lived on a boat. That's it, that was all he'd said. Marlene got out of the car in her jeans and a snug black top — the only thing that made the heat bearable, and headed for the pier. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It was pretty busy, with sailors preparing their small vessels for departure, fishermen untangling fishnets and some handymen helping around with repairs. The bustle of the docks was accompanied by a constant cry of seagulls. Marlene only hoped they wouldn't shit on her. With her luck, anything was possible.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, do you know how I can find Reggie Smoulders?" Marley asked one of the fishermen. The man turned to her, squinting, the fishnet still in hand. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well, I'll be," he drawled in disbelief, looking her over, "What's a girl like you doing lookin' for a schlepper like him?</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I...he's, um, he's an old friend." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A friend, huh? Yeah, he's mighty friendly," the fisherman shook his head. Marley frowned, "You best beware, girlie." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"O-kay," she said slowly. Well, that was pretty weird, "So you know where he lives?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"'F course I know where he lives, ain't no chance of missin' <em>that</em> hole. Just a couple of boats down, you'll know when ya see it." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene mumbled an awkward "thanks" and continued down the docks, looking for...well, she didn't exactly know what she was looking for. She hoped that Reggie wasn't some kind of a nut. Because she really needed those documents.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">But the fisherman definitely hadn't lied about Reggie's boat — it was a dump. There was nothing left of the white surface now covered in rust and sea weeds. Some very dead plants decorated the deck that, as Marlene suspected, was supposed to be the lounge area. Well, she wouldn't want lounge <em>there</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The boat wobbled a little as she stepped in it, and Marley had to grab onto the railing to keep her balance. She instantly regretted the decision, feeling something sticky on her fingers. She brushed them against her jeans with a disgusted frown and walked further. God, she was getting sea sick. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Hello?" Marlene called, standing at the stairs to the cabin. She craned her neck a little to see if anyone was down there. "Hello?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I'm coming, I'm coming!" A voice grumbled from the bow of the boat. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley's jaw slacked a little when she saw him. Tall, golden curls, a blue unbuttoned shirt that left little for imagination and those eyes, they were almost glowing— oh, God he was smiling at her. And he had <em>dimples</em>, "Well, hello there." And a southern drawl. Excellent. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"H-hi," Marlene managed to say, gazing up at him. The sun created an angelic halo — oh no, no angels. Nah-uh. "You are..." <em>gorgeous, an earthly Adonis,</em> "...Reggie. Smoulders, right?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That's me," he wiped his hands with a cloth and threw it onto the deck, "And who might you be, darlin'?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He walked past her down to the cabin. Marley wasn't sure if she should follow him, but then Reggie looked back at her with those enticing blue eyes in a silent invitation. She flew down those stairs in an instant, "Well, huh, that depends on you, really." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh yeah?" Reggie flashed her a flirty smile, "And how's that?" he took out two cups from the cupboard of his modest kitchen area and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"None for me," Marley told him before he could pour her a drink. Reggie levelled her with a questioning look, "I'm driving, so — "</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Nonsense. When you're on a boat..." he poured her a glass, lips stretching into a cocky grin, "...you do as the captain says." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>Captain, my captain</em>, Marlene thought and took a generous sip. God, it burned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Takes some gettin' used to," Reggie said, having downed his in one sitting.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," Marley croaked out, still flinching, "I suppose it does." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So, <em>mysterious maiden</em>," he leaned on the counter, "What brings you to my ship?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene put the glass down. "I need to disappear. And Bobby Singer said you could help me with that." Reggie laughed and shook his head. Marley frowned, "What"?</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Bobby freakin' Singer, huh? Now that's a name I haven't heard in a while." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"He said you owe him a favour."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"'F course he did," Reggie sighed, a small smile playing on his lips, "So you need a fake ID?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley nodded, "The whole package."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Should I even ask?" Noticing the distress on her face, he laughed, "Alright, alright, I ain't asking no questions. Let's go, gotta get your picture taken," he cleared some of the things out of the way and showed her further into the cabin, "Come on, go in. I ain't gon' stare too much." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Oh my God</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene walked to the little room in the back. It was pretty small, but well-equipped with a bar-stool, a white wall and an expensive-looking camera. Reggie seemed to be doing pretty well in the business. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Sit down, sweetheart," he said, getting behind the tripod, "Move a little to the right...yes, perfect. Now raise your chin — good, <em>very</em> nice." His voice was so incredibly soothing and titillating, Marley felt her cheeks burn up a little. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">When Reggie was finally happy with the shot, he snapped a couple of pictures, the flash blinding Marley for a split moment. When she regained her sight, Reggie's smile was the first thing she saw, "All done." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"T-thank you." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Sure thing, darlin'. You go tell that old grump that he ain't got nothin' on me no more."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, I will," Marlene jumped off the stool, "Just as soon as I see that your money's where your mouth's at."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Why, my mouth can travel a lotta places," Reggie smiled at the challenge, his eyes travelling down her body.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene was positive she was as red as a twizzler. She cleared her throat, "When are they going to be ready?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Tomorrow night," Reggie told her, "We meet at the West port, near ADM warehouses. Midnight work for ya?" She nodded dutifully. "Then I'll see you there, darlin'." </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene didn't have nightmares that night. Probably, because she didn't sleep at all. The motel she'd rented a room at was a place of great renown in the city, as it turned out. And its residents were extremely...<em>vocal</em> about it. Every night. She couldn't help but wonder what'd happened in the very sheets she was lying in. What were the chances of them actually having been washed?</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The constant pain in her head didn't make it easier. Marley hadn't had those in a while, but after the dream she had three days before, they returned with a new power. Sometimes, she could even make out some voices. And a name that started with an "R". </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene woke up feeling like a fish in a sardine box. A very exhausted fish in a sardine box. She trudged to the sink and splashed some cold water onto her face to chase away the weariness that had seemed to permanently etch its way onto it. The pain struck again when she was about to close the faucet. Marley grabbed onto the sink and clenched her jaws rightly, fighting the ringing in her ears. It felt like her entire brain was on fire, sending tremors through every nerve cell in her body. One...two...three...</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">And it was gone. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Hunched over the sink, Marlene was breathing heavily, even more tired than she was seconds before. She was feeling overpoweringly weak, barely able to raise her head. When she looked up at the mirror, there was a crack in it that hadn't been there before. And blood was streaming down her nose. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">After that delightful morning, Marlene got some breakfast at the diner near the motel and headed for the city library. She had some time to kill before the meet-up with Reggie the Adonis, so she figured there was no better way to spend it than over a book. Or a dozen of them.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It turned out there was a lot of lore on emeralds. The precious gem was believed to possess magical qualities. Some said it could cure grave deceases, others claimed it could aid a seer in seeing the future. The most prominent of those tales, however, was that of a gem adorning Lucifer's crown. The one Arthur'd told her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Many scholars wrote about it in the context of the Holy Grail — the mythical and most desired object of many archeologists who believed in its existence. And there were <em>many</em>. The Grail was typically pictured as a golden cup that, according to the Bible, held the blood of Jesus after the great betrayal. The cup was rumoured to have unlimited power which Marley thought was a bit of a stretch. Like all legends, really.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> However, there was one part of that legend that started to make sense, now that Marlene knew something she hadn't before. There was a highly favoured theory that an emerald was embedded within the golden cup. Could it have been one of the pieces that had fallen out of Lucifer's crown? If so, that would explain the magical qualities of the Holy Grail. And also...well, it could very possibly confirm its existence. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene felt like a knight from Arthurian legends, sat at the round table, planning an expedition for the Grail. She wondered what would Sir Galahad do if he was on the federal "wanted" list. He'd probably kill them all and say that God told him to. <em>Huh</em>. Wouldn't you know it. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley drew a rough sketch of the Grail in her notebook and a piece of emerald next to it — she wondered if it would still be there, after all this time. Or if the glorified cup existed at all. Marlene suddenly stilled, pen stopping inches away from the paper. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">A prickling sensation in the back of her neck made her look up. Marley swept her eyes over the empty library, but saw no one particularly suspicious. There was a guy looking through some books in the Science Fiction isle. Some student typing away on her laptop. Nothing out of the ordinary. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>If it were the police, they would've already arrested you</em>, she reassured herself, but it wasn't really working. Because there were things significantly worse than law enforcement that could be after her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley collected her things as calmly as possible and stood up. She returned the books to the nice old lady at the entrance and left the building, trying to keep her composure. But once Marley was out in the street, she all but broke into a sprint. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She was being followed, Marlene was sure of it. Every time she looked over her shoulder, there was a man not far behind. And every time he saw her looking at him, he dodged behind a street lamp or another passer-by to hide himself, which...wasn't working too well for him. Marley's hand moved to the gun in her bag. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">This time, she turned around as fast she could to startle her stalker. And it worked. He didn't manage to hide in time and Marlene caught his face. It was the same guy from the Science Fiction isle. And he did <em>not</em> scream danger. "Hey!" She yelled. He lurched to a stop, frozen in place. "Yes, you!" Marley advanced on him. Why the hell was he just standing there? "Why are you following me?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> "Me? I'm not following <em>you</em>," the guy told her almost indignantly, like following her would be the most boring thing to do, "It's a nice day outside. I'm just basking in the Texan sun," he took a long breath and let it out, a blissful expression on his odd face. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh really? What were you doing in the library then?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He squinted at her, "What were <em>you</em> doing in the library?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Reading," she deadpanned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Where there you have it!"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You were <em>following</em> me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're crazy, lady," the guy dismissed her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I saw you hiding behind a street lamp."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">That took some time for him to come up with an explanation, "That isn't illegal." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, but it is <em>suspicious</em>." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The guy had to shrug. There was no denying it. He looked pretty harmless. Nothing in his face suggested he was a demon and he didn't really give off the dickish angel vibe. Marlene squinted her eyes, trying to size him up. Baggy clothes, swagger chains, a t-shirt with a very strange print...was this guy stalking her to sell her his CD? </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Are you an angel?" she asked. It was a long shot, but the best way to eliminate the worst possible option. If it turned out to be true, Marley wouldn't be able to escape anyway. If not, at least she'd know what she was dealing with. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The guy perked up, "Is that a pickup line?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She stared at him blankly, "No."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Then no, I'm not." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A hunter, then?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">At that, he stilled, looking stumped. <em>Bingo</em>. "Wh — how...how did you know?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I really didn't," Marley said, "But now I do. So why were you following me?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">They guy scratched his head awkwardly, "How about we talk about it over some oysters? I've been dying to eat those ever since I got here," he said, "I'm Garth by the way."</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene leaned back into her chair, hands cupping the glass of water. She said slowly, "So...you're saying he is a?..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A shapeshifter," Garth supplied with a full mouth. He slurped on another oyster, "There's a whole ring of them here in Galveston. Murdering deck workers, stealing cargo, real mafia stuff goin' on."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>A shapeshifter</em>, Marley repeated in her head. Yes, that sounded about right. A thing that could take on the skin of another human and turn into anyone they wanted. Garth had explained to her that the only thing that could kill them was silver. He had tested her to make sure she wasn't one of them. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So that thing killed the real Reggie and...<em>became him</em>?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Garth wiped his mouth with a napkin, "Yeah, pretty much. It's really smart though, when you think about it. People come to you to get lost and you literally do what they ask." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"What does he do with them?" Marlene asked, horrified. It could've easily been her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That's what I was trying to figure out." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That's why you were spying on me? So that I could lead you to a creepy warehouse filled with virgins?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Exactly," Garth replied bluntly, sipping on his soda, "You're the first one I could actually catch. Virgins, though? A bit old-fashioned. Come on, Marlene, we live in a modern society."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It turned out Garth was indeed a hunter — he'd showed her all his badges and fake IDs (even though Marlene hadn't asked), and shared his melodramatic origins story. He'd also heard about Sam and Dean and absolutely geeked out when she'd told him she actually knew the guys. Apparently, they were some kind of legends in the hunter community. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> "What's the plan then?" Marley asked. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Garth leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "Do you trust me?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Welp, you're gonna have to." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley squinted at him, "And why's that?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Because you need those IDs," Garth told her cockily, "And I need to get closer to Reggie Smoulders." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene looked at Garth's scrawny built, then remembered Reggie's corded, tan muscles, "And do what? He's twice your size." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, Marley," Garth sighed patronisingly, "It's all about <em>technique</em>." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Technique?" she raised a sceptical brow. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He nodded confidently, "<em>That</em> and experience, of course." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene sighed, circling the rim of her glass. Damn it, she <em>really</em> needed those documents.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">They decided to take Garth's car. No, correction: Garth had <em>insisted</em> they take his car, because he'd need his own wheels in case of a grand getaway. Marley was too nervous and jittery to protest. All she cared about was getting the documents and the hell out if this town. If she saw another shrimp cocktail, she'd vomit. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley sniffed the air in the car and wrinkled her nose, "Why does it smell like fish in here?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh," Garth reached for something in the backseat, keeping his eyes on the road — a pack of shrimp chips. Her stomach churned, "Want some?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>No</em>," Marlene turned away to the window. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Galveston was buzzing with night life as they drove through the city, the beach pier bathed in sparkling lights of a weekend fair. But as they got close to the warehouses at the docks, the road grew increasingly darker and more deserted. The feeling of dread had crept into Marlene's chest. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Here we are," Garth announced and turned the engine off. It was completely dark but for a couple of street lamps. The perfect place for murdering someone. Empty, dingy warehouses, the ocean to dispose of the body — solid cereal killer attraction. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So how do we do it?" she turned to Garth, "Do I just go there and?..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Just try to act normal. We need to catch him by surprise."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Okay," Marlene said faintly. She took a deep breath and let it out, "Okay. Yes, I'm ready. Let's do this." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Garth slapped her on the back, smiling. Marley hissed. "That's the spirit!"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That's the spirit," she muttered under her breath as she got out of the car. The air was much cooler than in the morning, smelling faintly of the sea. It would've been really pleasant in literally any other situation. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley walked to the towering cargo containers, her neck sore from turning her head around too much. But it was disturbingly murky and quiet and she felt like all of her senses had shut down at the same time. A cold shiver ran down her spine, her hair standing on end. Marlene stopped. Someone was standing behind her.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She turned around slowly, bracing herself for the monster with golden curls, then stilled. There was no one there. What the hell? Marlene ventured further, deeper into the cargo maze. She should've probably grabbed a roll of yarn to find a way back. She was half expecting a horned, mythical creature to jump out of the shadows and swallow her whole. Then she wouldn't have to worry about the Apocalypse. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Reggie?" Marley yelled out, growing wary, "Reggie, are you here?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Her steps reverberated through the silence like thumps of a giant. Where the hell was he? Marlene couldn't believe she was purposefully looking for the man who wanted to kill, abduct her and sell her into slavery. Not necessarily in that order. "Reggie? I'm here! Where are you?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene turned a corner and walked into a make shift clearing, "Reg — " His body was sprawled across the ground under a funny angle, golden curls muddy and stained with dried blood, "Oh, God," Marley breathed. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Legs trembling, she came closer to Reggie. His blue eyes stared blankly into the night sky, peaceful. And there was a wide gash on his throat. He had been killed recently — blood was still leaking from the wound, pooling around his unmoving body. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A-ha! I got you, you — " Garth lurched to a halt when he saw the body, "Holy shit. Did you do this?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No! No, I...I f-found him like that, it's — <em>fuck</em>," she cursed and turned to Garth, expression absolutely helpless, "This is bad, isn't it?" He didn't say anything, too busy staring at the body. "Garth?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Y-yeah?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene frowned at his suddenly paled face, "Are you okay? Garth!"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"S-sorry, it's just...I've never seen a dead body before." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Wh — what?! " she spluttered in confusion, "You're a <em>hunter</em>!" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"It's my first real hunt!"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley wanted to scream and laugh and cry. But most of all, she wanted to strangle Garth, "What about <em>"technique"</em> and <em>"experience"</em>?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well — "</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The sound of sirens came from the distance. Marley's head whipped to the right and she saw police lights reflected on the wall of a huge cargo container. "Are you kidding me?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"We gotta go!"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene looked back at the body, then at the approaching police lights. Reggie could still have her documents on him. It was worth checking. She rushed to his motionless body and crouched before it. Fighting the urge to cry, Marley began padding for some kind of an envelop.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"What are you doing?" Garth hissed, eye bulging out from panic, "<em>Marlene!</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A second!" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">There was nothing. How could there be nothing? His shirt, the pockets of his jeans — they were empty. Marlene rose to her feet, shaking. It couldn't have been all for...for — wait a minute. "Garth, help me roll hmm over." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He looked at her like she was mad, "Are you out of her mind?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Please</em>," she implored. The sirens were getting louder. Garth held her eyes with a stubborn expression, but then cursed and crouched down next her. Together, they rolled Reggie's body so that he was lying on his stomach. Hesitantly, Marlene reached for the hem of his Hawaiian shirt and lifted it. A manila envelop was sticking out, tucked into his jeans. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Hurry!" Garth whispered, glancing over at the approaching police. Marley snatched the envelop and bolted. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">They managed to flee the crime scene, only barely escaping a brush with the police. Garth started the car, Marley jumped into the passenger seat, heart thumping like crazy. "That was very stupid, Marlene!" he told her and drove away with headlights off not to attracted unwanted attention. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene tore the envelop open. There was a single piece of white paper. A note. </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Almost, but not quite. Got to try harder, little angelette.</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Life is Better with Good Friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 12 / Life is Better with Good Friends</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Ecclesiastes 4:10</p><hr/><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>An active search for Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan is currently underway in Galveston, Texas. The police have units discharged to all parts of the city, on the lookout for the main suspect in the murder of Reginald Smoulders, the local fisherman who was found dead yesterday, in the West cargo terminal in Port Industrial.</em></span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>Miss Ter-Gabrielyan is already wanted in New-Haven in connection to the murder of Theresa Armitage, a 23-year-old student from Yale University. The sheriff of Galveston Police Department Matthew Loyster believes that the two cases are connected. A picture of the suspect was found among the private possessions in the victim's residence, tying Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan to a second murder investigation.</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene switched the channel, "<em>...an order for her arrest has been issued this morning. She is being charged with double homicide </em></span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">"</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan will be trialed in New-Haven...</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Steve, this is unlike anything we've seen in a long time </em></span>
  <span class="s3">—"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Two murders, now how did she </em></span>
  <span class="s3">—</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"....<em>this girl is the true Devil." </em></span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're gonna see the true Devil pretty damn soon, you pampered little bitch!" Marlene hurled the remote at the TV, aiming for the anchor's smiley face. Why the hell was she smiling anyway? She was reporting <em>murder</em>, for Christ's sake. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The door opened and Garth strolled in, oblivious to her fit of rage, "Hey, I got us tacos, I wasn't sure </span>
  <span class="s3">— " he stopped, catching on the bad vibes, "What happened?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">"I feel like I'm in Salem and it's witch trials, and I have a weird birthmark," Marlene told him, close to tears. She then paused, noticing something on his head, "Is that a cowboy hat?"</p><p class="p6">"Howdy,"Garth tipped it with a pleased smile, "D'you like it?"</p><p class="p6">Marley opened her mouth to answer but then closed it. Better not to piss off the only person who could help her right now. So she nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile. It seemed enough for Garth.</p><p class="p6">"I think they're gonna find me soon," she said, "It's just a matter of time before they check this dump." Garth stayed silent, his expression weirdly guilty. As if there was something he wasn't telling her. "What? What else is wrong?"</p><p class="p6">Garth put the bag with tacos on the table and trudged to the bed, head hung low. He sat down next to Marlene, "So, I've been up and about 'round town," he said with a deep Southern accent that went completely unappreciated, "And, um, also been to the West docks — "</p><p class="p6">"What?" Marlene cut him a disbelieving glare.</p><p class="p6">"I needed to see the crime scene, okay? And there was nothing there to see anyway, they'd already taken his body— "</p><p class="p6">Marley cupped her face in horror, "Oh, God..."</p><p class="p6">"Oh, come on," Garth patted her on the back rather awkwardly, "It's gonna be just fine, you'll see. And soon you'll be <span class="s4">grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tater</span><span class="s3">." </span></p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Just say it already."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">His smile fell. "Reggie's shapeshifter friends are looking for you," Garth said really fast and winced when Marley turned to him. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Are you serious?" she whispered. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He nodded. "I'm sorry </span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p6">"We need to get out of here," Marley sprung from the bed and started packing, "As soon <em>and</em> as far as possible."</p><p class="p6">"Ye-ah, about <em>that</em>," Garth let out a nervous chuckle, "All the roads are kind of being, um, patrolled? You know, in case you decided to pull a Billy the Kid on 'em? Kill a bunch of sheriffs, steal a horse?"</p><p class="p6">Marlene gave him the what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look and dropped the bag, falling into yet another fit of panic, "Do I just turn myself in?"</p><p class="p6">"Oh, no. No, no way," Garth shook his head, "They're gonna kill you."</p><p class="p6">She was almost tempted to call Dean or Sam to ask them for help. But they were probably half-way across America, on a completely different case. They'd already done so much for her, she didn't want to be even more of a nuisance.</p><p class="p6"><em>Alright, Marlene</em>, she told herself, <em>you wanted to be on your own, and that's what you got. Now stop moping and start pulling yourself together. That ass isn't gonna save itself</em>. Even though that's what it was technically going to do.</p><p class="p6">She had a sudden revelation, "We need to find out who did it."</p><p class="p6">"Did what?" asked Garth.</p><p class="p6">"Killed Reggie. Look," Marlene took out the note from her bag, "This was in the envelop. Whoever put it there is the culprit. And then they called the police. It was a <em>setup</em>."</p><p class="p6">Garth read the note and frowned, "I mean...I <em>suppose</em> Reggie could be having some troubles with one of the guys in the pack. I've seen them squabble a lot on his boat."</p><p class="p6">"Great! Well, there we have it," Marley exclaimed, seeing a flicker of hope on the horizon, "If the real killer is found, they'll get off my back."</p><p class="p6">It seemed Garth had some doubts about it, "That's possible, yeah. But why would they leave a note? And call you..." he looked at the paper again, "...<em>angelette?</em>"</p><p class="p6">"I don't know," Marlene said loudly. Liar, liar, pants and everything else on fire because she was going to Hell. Oh, wait, she couldn't even get <em>there</em>. "Because they're psychotic killers?"</p><p class="p6">That seemed good enough to persuade Garth, "Okay-dokey, then I'm gonna snuff out the killer and show him a real Western welcome."</p><p class="p6">"Sounds good to me. Let's go — "</p><p class="p6">"Nah-uh, I'm workin' alone," Garth stood up, all business, "You're staying here, lady. I don't need you attracting attention with your good looks and your criminal record."</p><p class="p6">Marlene had him pinned to a place with a stubborn stare but eventually let out a loud sigh. He was right, she would be arrested five minutes after leaving the room.</p><p class="p6">"Where are you gonna go?"</p><p class="p6">"Check out the boat, lurk around that pub they love, get a pint or two," Garth adjusted his ridiculous hat in the mirror and flicked some dust off his red velvet jacket, "Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone. And <span class="s4">don't let the door hit ya' where the good Lord split ya</span><span class="s3">!</span>"</p><p class="p6">Unfortunately he closed the door before the pillow Marlene'd charged at his face found its aim. <em>Ah!</em> What a prick. She hoped he wouldn't get killed though. How in the <em>world</em> had he got himself into hunting?</p><p class="p6">With a loud sigh, Marlene fell on the squeaky bed, feeling every little spring poke into her back. Were beds in prison more comfortable? If so, it didn't sound that bad already. Maybe she could get used to that life. Who knows? Perhaps, it was just like in the Chicago musical, and a sexy Richard Gere would make her a star. Or they'd think she's mad because of the voices in her head and would send her to the loony bin. Marlene, Interrupted. Endless possibilities, one brighter than the other. At least it wouldn't last long, with the whole Apocalypse thing. Only about...42 months, was it? She'd had cereals in her cupboard that lasted longer.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">A knock on the door jarred Marley out of the self-destructive manifestation process, thrusting her back into the panic mode. She shot up from the bed and grabbed the gun she'd put on the night stand. God, she didn't even know who to use it. Were there even bullets in that thing? </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene prowled to the door on tiptoes, back to the wall. She craned her neck and took a look in the peep hole. "Fuck," she hissed out. There was a man in a black coat patiently waiting by the door. He didn't look like a policeman, though, which meant...</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Open up, little angelette! I know you're in there," he sing-sang. Marlene flinched away from the door. Oh, shit, he <em>was</em> a shapeshifter. The one who'd left that note. Garth'd said there was an entire mafia, and that guy definitely looked like he could put a horse head into your bed. But...was that a British accent? </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley backed away from the door, aiming the gun straight ahead in case the shapeshifter decided to burst through it. But then her back met something solid, and it wasn't a wall. She whipped around and pointed the gun at</span>
  <span class="s3">— what the hell?</span>
</p><p class="p6">"I <em>did</em> try knocking," the man told her ruefully.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene stumbled back, her hand trembling, "How...h-how did you?..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, that? Just some bibbidi-bobbidi.</span>
  <span class="s3">"</span>
</p><p class="p6">"Who the hell are you?"</p><p class="p6">The man stopped, a wicked smile curved his lips, "Of course, where are my manners? Name's Crowley," he walked closer. Marley took a step back, staring at him warily, "Enchante, mademoiselle."</p><p class="p6">"You're not a shapeshifter." At least that much was clear.</p><p class="p6">Crowley looked insulted, "One of those skin-crawling slimy buggers? 'F <em>course</em> not."</p><p class="p6">"Then what are you?" Marley gripped the gun tighter. He glanced at it with amusement.</p><p class="p6">"You might've met my former employer. White eyes, passionate, <em>extremely</em> unpleasant — "</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> Her face wen slack, "You're a demon?" Then why couldn't she see him?</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well aren't you a bright little Judy?" Crowley sneered, "Yes. King of the Crossroads now, climbing up that corporate ladder. See, there's been a slight change of management. A little old coup, if you will," he walked to the window and moved the curtains to look outside. Then he demon turned back to Marlene, "Thought I'd take the trouble to introduce myself to our most...<em>cherished</em> patrons." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You killed the shapeshifter, Reggie. You <em>framed</em> me. Why?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Because he was going to kill <em>you</em> and that would make <em>me</em> really sad," Crowley told her, "As for the framing..." he grimaced, "I guess I <em>did</em> make a call to the local sheriff. Apparently, every lad in uniform got his baton up for you, little angelette."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene eyed her bag on the table. If she could just...</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That wouldn't be very smart, I'm afraid," Crowley said in a bored tone. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She cut him a glare, "What do you want?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Why, it's quite simple. I want us to be friends."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Friends?" Marley deadpanned.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I braid your hair, you braid mine and we gossip about your boyfriends. How <em>are</em> they doing by the way?" Crowley strolled up to the table and started going through her stuff, "I've been meaning to pay them a visit, but their toxic masculinity is just <em>so</em> intimidating." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks to you, the entire Galveston police are currently patrolling the city to get my ass arrested. Doesn't sound very friendly to me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A friend in need is a friend indeed, isn't that what they say?" Crowley sent her a mischievous smile, "I'm here to help you." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>You</em> got me into this."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Darling, it's just semantics." Crowley took out the last remaining pouch of the dust from her bag and examined it. Marlene tensed. "Huh," he huffed out a laugh and glanced over at her, "Not bad, little angelette. I'll be confiscating this." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You can fix it? The police, the shapeshifters?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, I can do anything. For the right price, that is." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>Freaking demons, </em>"And what price is that?" Marley greeted out. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley came over to her, his step dangerously unhurried; leisured, even. He stopped, fires dancing in the pits of his dark grey eyes, "I need you to lend me your soul." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley's face was emotionless as stared at him. But then then she burst out laughing and couldn't seem to stop. Crowley was extremely annoyed.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Go on, laugh it out," he muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"The fact that you thought it would <em>work</em>," Marley shook her head, "That I'd actually sell my soul to a demon </span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p6">"<em>Lent.</em>"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Semantics," Marlene retorted, very pleased with herself.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"What if I told you it could help against our...common enemy?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She squinted at Crowley, "I wasn't aware we had a common enemy."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, but we do," he said, "Tall, dark, fallen? Wants to end the world and feast on human flesh?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>You</em> want to go against Lucifer?" Marlene asked, sceptical, "You're a demon." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Some of us aren't particularly ecstatic about his untimely homecoming. Some of us," Crowley gave her a pointed look, "Would very much like to see him back in that cage."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"And how would my soul help <em>some of you</em> do that?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Your soul is the missing gem in Lucifer's crown, little angelette. It's <em>priceless</em>. If I have what he so badly desires, all of Hell will witness his weakness and stand with me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So it's a power grab?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley considered it, "Rather, an honest revolution. Vive l'Enfer," he proclaimed inspirationally. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Aren't you an infernal Napoleon," Marley scoffed.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So what do you say?" Crowley pressed, getting restless, "Your soul in exchange for your life </span>
  <span class="s3">— I'd say it's quite the bargain." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She'd lie if she said it wasn't tempting. What did it matter? Marlene way never going to Heaven anyway, and Arthur'd said that the place they'd end up would make Hell look like a five-star all-inclusive. Maybe that was her one ticket to an afterlife, however horrible. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">But then she thought about her father. Who'd made the same deal, damning millions of people instead of himself. Angels failed him. Failed all of them. So why the hell should she trust a demon? </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No," Marlene replied.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The cocky smile slipped off Crowley's face, "No?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not selling <em>or</em> lending you my soul. You can't have it." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That is extremely foolish," his voice grew darker.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"As opposed to selling my soul to a demon?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Must you be so narrow-minded, little angelette?" Crowley said, "I'm merely trying to help." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley held his eyes stubbornly, "And I am merely declining it." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley burned her with an unreadable stare, as if frozen in his silent fury. His face was dangerously still, almost serene. Then it broke in a dashing smile, "Well, then. I'll leave you to it," Crowley told her and suddenly yelled out, "Boys!" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene looked back just as two policemen barged into the room. Only they weren't human. She turned to Crowley,"What are you doing? Get away from me!" Marley tried to wriggle out of their grasp when the demons grabbed her from the behind and put handcuffs on her wrists.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Giving you some time to sleep on it," Crowley said, straightening the lapels of his black coat, "I hear beds in jail are quite orthopaedic."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The policemen dragged Marlene out of the motel room to their car, not fazed by her beastly kicking and writhing, "You're dead, Crowley!" she screamed out. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">One of the demons opened the backseat door and threw Marley inside like a bag of potatoes. Without her hands to keep balance, she landed face down onto the seat, hissing from pain.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">And the door was shut. </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p7">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The room was cold and blank, dimly lit by a single lamp hanging above a single desk. It was all very clinical, impersonal, different from what Marlene had imagined. </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s4">She rubbed her wrists </span>— they were still hurting from the handcuffs, now marred by angry red lines. The detective they'd assigned to her case had them removed. Apparently, Marley didn't look like a raging psychopath. She had half a mind to prove them wrong. There was a camera in the corner, she could easily throw a one-man show.</p><p class="p6">Marlene'd been sitting at the desk for almost two hours, staring at the wall that she perfectly knew to be see-though. Marley was no rookie in the business — she had religiously watched every episode of the Criminal Minds. She'd never imagined sitting on the opposite side of the interrogation table though.</p><p class="p6">God, that freaking demon. Crowley — what an absolutely demonic name, which made perfect sense, she supposed. Sleazy, silver-tongued son of a bitch. Did he really think this spoonful of dirt, spoonful or sugar bullshit was going to work on her? <em>Dipshit</em>.</p><p class="p6">After what seemed like a week, the door finally opened and in walked the detective. From what Marlene remembered and she remembered very little — everything up to her ending up in that chair was a blur — the man's name was Luke Collins.</p><p class="p6">He turned the camera on. "Evening, Miss Ter-Gabrielyan," Collins dropped a weighty file on the desk and sat down, "Sorry for the wait. I trust you found something to pass the time?" Oh yes, and he was an absolute asshole. The kind that had the manners of a Southern gentleman and used them as an evil superpower to be a dick.</p><p class="p6">Marlene stared pointedly into the desk, refusing to talk. Which was exactly what'd kept her stuck in that room this entire time.</p><p class="p6">Collins opened the file and ran his eyes over it, "Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan, twenty-three, second-degree murder with no prior offences, not even a speeding ticket," he looked up, "That sure escalated quickly. What went wrong? Did you fight over a guy, she took your lipstick without askin'?"</p><p class="p6">Marley longed to tell him what a sexist pig he was being, but chose to keep her silence instead. She wouldn't speak a word to this dickhead.</p><p class="p6">"I had a phone call earlier, from New-Haven. Since they've issued the order for your arrest, they have the jurisdiction," he said and opened the file like a child unpacking a Christmas present, "But until they send in the fellow in charge of your case, you and I have some matters to discuss."</p><p class="p6">Still silent, Marley threw a look at the papers Collins was going through. She got a glimpse of a dead body and quickly looked away.</p><p class="p6">"How did you know Reginald Smoulders?" Nothing. "Were you fishing buddies? Lovers, perhaps?"</p><p class="p6">Marlene set her jaw, her impassive stare intensifying. "See, Reggie was a poplar guy around these parts. A real charmer," Collins took out a photo from the file and slid it over to Marley. It was Reggie, lying in the pool of his blood, facing the pavement. Her lower lip trembled, "Terrible, isn't it? Being left to die, alone, out in the cold. We come into the world alone and leave the same way," Collins quoted wistfully, "I guess Reggie didn't expect it would happen at a cargo terminal with his throat slit open."</p><p class="p6">Marlene flinched at the words and instantly regretted it — it was the reaction Colling was hoping for. <em>Aiming</em> for.</p><p class="p6">"Reggie wasn't an upstanding' citizen, not by a long shot," he reclined in his chair casually, "He sat where you're sitting right now more times than I can count. Fraud, robbery, breaking and entering, did two years, one on probation. Then he went off the grid for some time, took up <em>fishing</em>," Collins folded his hands on his stomach, a real laid-back fellow that he was. He gave Marley a probing look. She had nothing to contribute to the conversation. Nothing that would get her out of that room, at least. "Do you need more water?"</p><p class="p6">She shook her head.</p><p class="p6">"I know you prefer tea. It was in the report from New-Haven," Collins dropped the information with a very precise casualness, "Maybe you'd like a cuppa?"</p><p class="p6">"No," Marley said, her voice slightly hoarse form disuse, "I wouldn't."</p><p class="p6">"Alright, as you wish," Collins smiled, his white teeth stark against his tanned skin, "Say, did Reggie offer you something to drink when you came aboard his boat?" He caught a glimpse of recognition in Marley's eyes and continued with a sigh, "A real dump. Old man Arnold told us you'd come looking for it..." Collins looked up the date in the report, "...On June 25<span class="s5"><sup>th</sup></span>, the day before Reggie's death. Is that right?"</p><p class="p6">Marlene said nothing, ultimately confirming the statement.</p><p class="p6">"You were seen leaving approximately twenty minutes later," the detective said, raising his sharp blue eyes at her, "A pretty short visit." He put another photo on the desk — one of Marlene's face, "It was found on his hard drive, coincidentally taken on the day of your sudden social call. Care to elaborate, Miss Ter-Gabrielyan?"</p><p class="p6">"No," she replied curtly.</p><p class="p6">Collins' eyes narrowed, "And why is that?"</p><p class="p6">"Because there's nothing to elaborate on — "</p><p class="p6">The door opened again, but no one came in. Marley frowned to herself and chanced a look at Collins. He wasn't expecting any guests, judging by the confusion on his face.</p><p class="p6">"Sir," a woman's shrill voice came from the outside, "Sir, wait —"</p><p class="p6">A familiar gangly figure capped with a mop of sandy hair stormed into the room. Marley gaped at Garth. He was in a wrinkly charcoal suit that was at least a size too big for him, paired with a yellow tie.</p><p class="p6">"Officer Balto," Garth showed his badge quickly enough to make it look real, "New-Haven police."</p><p class="p6">Detective Collins looked slightly abashed, something Marlene was sure didn't happen to him very often. He stood up and shook Garth's hand, "Detective Collins. You're earlier than I expected."</p><p class="p6">"Oh, well. That's how we work up North."</p><p class="p6">Collins's laugh screamed <em>"freaking Yankees"</em>, "Would you mind waiting a little, pal? We're not finished in here."</p><p class="p6">"Actually, I do," Garth insisted, "We're on a schedule here, fella. But rest assured," he put his hands on Collins' shoulders and told him solemnly, "Justice <em>will</em> be served."</p><p class="p6">Marlene suppressed a smile, watching the detective's Southern charm give tiny cracks. He shrugged Garth's hands off indignantly, "Could you repeat your name, officer?"</p><p class="p6">"Bartholomew Benjamin Balto," Garth told him, "It's a family name."</p><p class="p6">Nostrils flaring, Collins cut Marlene a warning look that promised a sequel to their riveting discussion, "I'll be back," he opened the door.</p><p class="p6">"Hey, detective," Collins stopped and turned back, "The handcuffs?" Garth pointed to Marlene'srestraints.</p><p class="p6">Mouth quivering on the verge of a snarl, Collins pulled out the key from his pocket and put it on the table. Then he left the room, a cloud of anger lingering in his wake.</p><p class="p6">Marlene's eyes instantly flashed to Garth, "How did you — "</p><p class="p6">"Shhh," he hissed, "They're still watching us. Now pretend like you're not infatuated with me."</p><p class="p6">"I'm not — "</p><p class="p6">"<em>Shhh.</em>"</p><p class="p6">"What's the plan?" she whispered.</p><p class="p6">"Just follow my lead. I used to take acting classes."</p><p class="p6">"Garth — "</p><p class="p6">Detective Collins returned to the investigation room, a tad disheveled. He looked like a guy who'd go to a bathroom to give himself a life-coach-y pep talk in the mirror, which seemed to be the case. He was significantly less snappy.</p><p class="p6">"Everything check out, Detective?" Garth asked when Collins closed the door.</p><p class="p6">"Yes, everything's in order."</p><p class="p6">"Great," Garth touched Marley's arm, cuing her to stand up. She did, "Then we'll be going."</p><p class="p6">Collins blocked their way to the door, "Not so quick, officer <em>Balto</em>. There's paperwork to be done, so you'll have to wait."</p><p class="p6">"You can fax it to us."</p><p class="p6">"I'm afraid it's not possible," the detective said, his voice almost a growl.</p><p class="p6">Marlene's eyes fell on the screen of the camera that was still recording and she shuddered. Detective Collins's eyes were glowing.</p><p class="p6">"Well, you're gonna have to call my boss and talk it over with him, buddy," Garth reached for his business card but pulled out something completely different. Collins snarled at the shining knife in Garth's hand and advanced on him.</p><p class="p6">"Garth," Marlene intoned in panic.</p><p class="p6">"I'll deal with him!"</p><p class="p6">Not a minute later, the knife flew out of Garth's hands. And then Garth followed after it. Collins —<em>shapeshifter </em>Collins — discarded him like a ragged doll and flashed his predatory eyes to Marlene. She backed away and stumbled into a chair, "I didn't kill your friend."</p><p class="p6">"Your scent was all over his body," the shifter snarled, prowling closer to her.</p><p class="p6">Marlene retreated further, "I...I swear I didn't. Think about it, why would I kill him? He helped me, he..."</p><p class="p6">
  <em>Was going to kill me</em>
</p><p class="p6">"...was nice to me. Sort of," Marley frowned but quickly brushed it off. Collins came closer to her, but there was nowhere to go anymore — she was backed against the wall, "I know who killed him. I can even give you their name."</p><p class="p6">Collins towered before Marlene, hand snaking up to her neck. She felt his fingers sink into her throat, blocking the air, "Talk," he hissed and squeezed tighter.</p><p class="p6">"It was demons," Marley croaked out, "It was..." she coughed, becoming increasingly dizzy, "C-Crow— "</p><p class="p6">Suddenly, Collins's blue eyes bulged out, his jaw slacking. Marlene sucked in a sharp breath of air when the shifter's hold loosened. He stumbled back from her, and Marley saw Garth standing behind, blood trickling from his right temple.</p><p class="p6">Collins fell to the floor with a thump. Staggered, Marlene looked down and saw Garth's knife sticking out of his back, just beneath the left shoulder blade.</p><p class="p6">"Holy hell," Garth breathed, just as shocked at she was, "A-alright, we gotta skedaddle outta here pronto."</p><p class="p6">"<em>How?</em>" she asked with all the desperation of a fugitive at a precinct with a dead detective slumped at her feet.</p><p class="p6">Garth grabbed the handcuffs from the table and thew them to Marlene, "Put these on. And <em>don't</em> get any ideas. You're going to New-Haven, young lady, where you shall repent for your crimes."</p><p class="p6">Marley would've rolled her eyes had she not been so thankful.</p><p class="p6">"Oh, wait." It suddenly hit her. She walked to the camera and took out the memory card, "They shouldn't see that."</p><p class="p6">Marlene handcuffed herself while Garth was wiping off blood from his face, "Just act super devastated, alright? You have to really own it."</p><p class="p6">Marley nodded. She didn't need to act at all.</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p7">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I can't thank you enough, Garth," Marlene told him as they drove away from Galveston, the blasted welcoming sign long behind. She feared to think what was happening in that precinct right now </span>
  <span class="s3">— had they already found the body? They probably had. But by the time they did, Marley and Garth had long left the city. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, I came here to kill a shapeshifter and save some people," he smiled, very pleased with himself, "Think I did pretty well, didn't I?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley laughed, "Yeah, Garth, you did pretty damn well. Hey," she suddenly realised something, "How did you know where to look?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You were <em>all</em> over the news," Garth glanced over at her, "There I was, mindin' my own business, having a pint at the bar and watchin' the shifter boys. And then your face pops up on the TV and I go, "Hey, that's Marlene!"" Garth shook his head, chuckling, "Oh, boy, that was somethin'." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, it was "something" alright. And I bet after what happened back there, there's more of that "something" to come," Marley let out an internal groan. She'd come to Galveston to get fake documents and disappear. Instead, she got arrested, almost died by the hands of a shifter, killed a detective and fled yet another murder scene. God, life really wasn't her cup of tea. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Whoops, I almost forgot!" Garth reached for something in the backseat, completely forgetting about the car. Marlene darted forward and gripped the wheel to keep it from crashing. "Here, thought you're gonna need it." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It was her bag. Garth'd got her bag from the motel room. Marlene stared at it in awe, then turned to him, speechless, "Garth, that's </span>
  <span class="s3">— </span>
  <span class="s1">thank you, oh my <em>God</em>..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Just lil' ol' me," he said sheepishly.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene smiled and landed a quick kiss on his cheek. He blushed a little, "<em>Thank you,</em> Garth<em>. </em>I mean it<em>.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley opened the bag to get her phone but stilled when she saw the corner of a manila envelop sticking out. She opened it and stuck her hand inside to retrieve the contents: a passport, an ID, driver's license </span>
  <span class="s3">— all with her picture on them. </span>
</p><p class="p6">And a cheesy Hallmark card with a little Devil on the cover that said: "Open me". Marlene felt an overpowering urge to burn the thing and throw it out of the window, but curiosity got the best of her. She opened the card, and a song came blasting from the inside:</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why can't we be friends?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why can't we be friends?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why can't we be friends?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why can't we be friends?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p12">And a little message in a beautiful cursive font:</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Good friends are like stars</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>You don't always see them </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>But you know they're always there</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p15">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I seen ya around for a long long time</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p15">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I really remember you when you drank my wine</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p16"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. When Sammy Met Marley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Seven Devils</strong>
</p><p>Chapter 13 / When Sammy Met Marley</p><p>"<em>While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal</em>"</p><p>— Corinthians 4:18</p><hr/><p>Marlene had been having a strange reoccurring nightmare. There was a wide empty field, grass burnt out, lifeless. Blank. She saw a person on the other end, in a stark, white suit — it was Sam. He was walking towards her, silent and resolved, a man on a mission. And then he would stop, every single time he would stop in the middle of the field and raise his head to the sky.</p><p> </p><p>And in every dream Marlene would wonder why he was doing it. And in every dream she would scream in horror when blood would come crashing down from above, like an infernal storm, painting the field crimson. Sam would turn to her, his face frighteningly impassive. And then he would smile like he always did, his eyes lightening up, and he'd yell out her name as if it wasn't raining blood, as if he wasn't knee high in it. And he would start choking, his face growing alarmed with panic, and Marlene would just stand on the far end of the field, forced to watch him die and unable to do anything about it.</p><p> </p><p>Every single night.</p><p> </p><p>Marley never believed in premonitions or bed omens — those were silly superstitions, nothing else. But even she sensed that these nightmare didn't bode well. Not at all. And every morning she'd wake up with a paralysing feeling of dread and a name on her lips. Sam.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene tried to push the thoughts away and make herself busy — if she didn't sleep, the dreams would go away. It sounded reasonable back then. So she'd spend every night reading, cooped up in the car Garth'd rented out for her. They'd parted ways in Dallas, even though Garth'd offered to take her to the Mexican border. It wasn't the worst idea, but Marlene'd refused — she still had unfinished business in the great US of A. Plus, she was pretty sure that another hunt with Garth would get her killed.</p><p> </p><p>Marley steered away from motels, even though she now had a fake ID. The risk of being recognised was too high, and she wasn't about to take it after what'd happened. She'd killed an officer and escaped. Not even Emily Livingston from Nebraska — her fun-loving alter-ego, could help with that. Marlene needed to lay low, and let the storm run its course. In the meantime, she'd sleep in the car, cocooned in her coat, and hope for the better morrow. </p><p> </p><p>But somehow, it never came. The dreams were becoming increasingly worse and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll. Marlene had dozed off behind the wheel and barely escaped a crash on multiple occasions. Something had to be done.</p><p> </p><p>And Marley knew exactly what.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Sam's shift was almost over. There was only a couple customers left — regulars, from what he could tell after the week spent bartending in the small-town bar. Same faces, same drinks, same jokes — every day was as predictable as the last, and for a time, Sam found comfort in that very much needed stability. But he was starting to feel a little restless.</p><p> </p><p>"Whitey's here, two o'clock," Lindsey whispered with a mischievous smile, coming over to the bar, "Still on about that conspiracy theory."</p><p> </p><p>Sam glanced at the pudgy middle-aged man at the corner table, waiting for his drink with a very determined expression, "I can deal with him — "</p><p> </p><p>Lindsey put her hand on his, "Keith, relax, it's fine," she said soothingly, "He tips pretty well when he's angry. Now if he gets handsy, then you can kick his ass."</p><p> </p><p>The blonde winked at Sam and walked away to take Whitey's order. It would no doubt be rye, three fingers, on the rocks. Sam sighed and resumed polishing the counter.</p><p> </p><p>A sudden vibration in his pocket made him frown. No one had called him in over three days, not even Dean. Sam looked at the number — Unknown.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello?" he answered, wary.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Sam. It's Marlene? The girl — "</p><p> </p><p>"I remember you, Marlene," Sam replied, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Marley thought he almost sounded amused. "Are you okay? I've seen some stuff on the news..."</p><p> </p><p>She looked out the window at the half-dead neon sign of the diner across the road, "Oh, that. Yeah, that's a long story, but, um, yeah. I — I'm fine, I'm alright," Marley picked up the road map from the passenger seat and laid it over the steering wheel, balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>She could hear music on the other line, voices. It sounded crowded. "Sorry, I would've called, but I didn't have your number."</p><p> </p><p>"That's fine, I got it, like, two day ago," Marlene looked at the map, trying to pinpoint her approximate location, "So, how are you guys? Any news?"</p><p> </p><p>"Um, actually..." Sam dropped the washcloth on the scrappy wood and left his station. Lindsey threw him a concerned look over from Whitey's table. He gestured to the phone. She nodded and turned back to the grumpy old man, "Actually, I've decided to take some time off." Sam pushed the backdoor open and stepped out into the alley. The air felt crisp and fresh against his sweaty, flushed skin.</p><p> </p><p>Marley almost chocked on the marker cap she had in her mouth, "Vo —" she spat it out and tried again, "What?"</p><p> </p><p>"I needed to clear my head."</p><p> </p><p>Marley could certainly understand that. She'd been exposed to this life for a little over two month and was already going crazy. She couldn't imagine what 26 years worth of that rollercoaster did to you.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Even hunters need a break," she circled the little town of Broken-Arrow, "So where'd you go? Hawaii? Jamaica? Thailand?"</p><p> </p><p>"Almost," Sam smiled, "I'm in Oklahoma."</p><p> </p><p>Marley sat up straighter, "Really? I'm in Oklahoma too."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you serious?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I'm in Broken-Arrow. Where are you?"</p><p> </p><p>"Garber. A little North of Oklahoma City — "</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Keith," Marley heard a female voice call. Sam turned to the door, "Need some help over there. Earl wants a refill and I can't manage that beastly machine."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a moment," he told Lindsey, "Look, Marlene, I gotta to go. See you later?"</p><p> </p><p>Marley circled Garber with a black marker, "See you later."</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Garber was a quaint little Southern town with population of just over 800 people, which the welcoming sign very proudly declared. It was a marvellous place to be, thought Marley, especially after the hellish week she'd had.</p><p> </p><p>She enjoyed the suburban scenery as she drove through the white-picket streets, past kids laughing on the playground, charming little shops, a gazebo on the main square, decorated with flowers and curling vines. Marlene loved small towns, because they were comforting, welcoming and, well, small, which made finding Sam much easier. In hamlets like this, there weren't many places a guest could stay. And in Garber, there turned out to be just one.</p><p> </p><p>Marley got herself a room at the "Great Planes" motel situated a bit farther from the nice part of the town. The alternative was Aunt Judy's BB, and as tempting and apple pie-smelling as it sounded, it was also too risky. It had be an in-and-out kind of stay, with no tea parties and local gossip. Oh, the local gossip.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, I'm looking for a friend, maybe you seen him? Nice hair, extremely tall?" she asked the guy at the front desk. He looked way too young to be working at a place like this.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, he works at the bar by the pier," he told her distractedly, busy counting the money Marley'd paid and putting it into the cash register. There wasn't even that much, but he seemed to be having some trouble with that.</p><p> </p><p>"Thanks," Marley gave the boy a confused look and went on her own little hunt.</p><p> </p><p>Yet another thing that made small towns a wonderful place to live — everything was a walking distance away. Coffee? Right around the corner. A scoop of ice cream? Don't my if I do walk a hundred feet. Marlene couldn't be happier to ditch the car and have a nice stroll in the sun. She had spent every waking hour — and there'd been a lot of those lately — in that wretched rental.</p><p> </p><p>Marley pushed the bar door open and walked inside. She was surprised to see it so packed in the daytime: tables bustling with guests, a buzz of chatter filling the homely establishment. Marlene felt a pang of panic — she always did in crowded places. She had to remind herself that people didn't give two shits about her as long as she blended in. And right now Marley was standing in the middle of the dining area like a moron.</p><p> </p><p>She spotted Sam at the bar, cutting what looked like limes, a washcloth thrown over his shoulder. He looked like a guy from a Hallmark chic flick that would change the life of a city girl forever with nothing but his provincial charm. It made her smile.</p><p> </p><p>Shaking off the unease, Marlene squeezed through a group of local troublemakers, by the looks of them, and plumped on a bar stool. She cupped her face, elbows resting against the sticky wood, and watched Sam work. He was incredibly absorbed in slicing limes, though, so Marley had to attract his attention, "What's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam's deep hazel eyes snapped up and went wide, "Marlene?"</p><p> </p><p>"Actually..." she took out the fake ID and slid it over to him, "It's Emily Livingston now."</p><p> </p><p>Sam examined it and looked up at Marley, "I didn't expect you so soon."</p><p> </p><p>"I drive really fast," she said. And I was also very worried.</p><p> </p><p>"So, what does Emily Livingston like to drink?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well," Marlene drawled thoughtfully, "She's very adventurous and flirty, likes new experiences. A little bit of an idiot, though, but that's alright. I think she'd like to be surprised. So come on, surprise me, Sam Winchester."</p><p> </p><p>Sam shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips, "Alright." He took a glass, poured some ice into it, a bit of scotch, and presented it to Marlene.</p><p> </p><p>She frowned at the drink, "It's just scotch."</p><p> </p><p>"You're surprised, aren't you?" Sam grinned cockily. Marley rolled her eyes and took a sip, smiling into the glass. "Plus, it's one of the few things I know how to make."</p><p> </p><p>"Aren't you the bartender?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam huffed out a laugh, "No, he'd just stepped out for a bit."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey," a waitress came over to the bar, "Lookin' good, Keith," she winked.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene sent Sam a question look, "Keith?" it asked. He smiled sheepishly, "What's the order, Lindsey?"</p><p> </p><p>"Two light beers," the girl said, gazing at Sam. She turned to Marlene, "Hi."</p><p> </p><p>Marley swallowed the scotch, "H-hi."</p><p> </p><p>"You two know each other?" she looked between her and Sam.</p><p> </p><p>"No. No, we've just met," he replied quickly.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," Marlene confirmed, nodding, "Never seen this man before in my life."</p><p> </p><p>Sam filled two beers and put them on Lindsey's tray, "Here you go."</p><p> </p><p>"My saviour," she sighed dramatically and walked away.</p><p> </p><p>Marley watched the exchange with raised brows, "Keith?"</p><p> </p><p>"New town, new name," Sam shrugged, "Easier to stay off the radar. Speaking of," he leaned in closer to Marley, "What was all that stuff on the news? You killed an officer?"</p><p> </p><p>She sighed, "This is a story for a place with less people to overhear it."</p><p> </p><p>"My shift ends in fifteen minutes. We can grab some dinner?"</p><p> </p><p>Marlene dawned the scotch and put it back on the counter, "Sounds great. Can I get a refill?"</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Marlene had never enjoyed a meal quite like that. Perhaps, it was a lie and she was grossly exaggerating. Or maybe, just maybe, that ham and cheese sandwich was as delightful as it tasted to Marley who hadn't had any normal food in a week.</p><p> </p><p>Sam watched in amusement as she closed her eyes, relishing every bite. The strange girl who'd all but fallen into their life. The girl who had managed to become one of the most wanted people in America without even holding a gun, who'd got herself involved in a shapeshifter-mafia business and had almost been killed by one of them, "So who was that guy who helped you?" Sam send a forkful of salad into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>"Some newbie hunter. Said his name was Garth. Do you know him?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam's brow furrowed, "No, I don't think so. Did you two figure out who killed that shapeshifter?"</p><p> </p><p>That part of the story Marlene had very sneakily left out. If she told him about Crowley, Sam would want to know what he wanted, and Marley wasn't ready to tell him the truth just yet. Especially now that the King of the Crossroads — whatever the hell that meant — was after her soul. She needed to deal with that before adding someone else into the equation.</p><p> </p><p>"Garth said it was some gang business," Marley shrugged and took another bite of the sandwich.</p><p> </p><p>Sam stared at her, shocked by the nonchalant answer, "Marlene...are you alright?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, it's all good. Garth arrived just in time for the final act. If it hadn't been for him, I'd be halfway to Shawshank or six feet under right now."</p><p> </p><p>"You should've called," Sam told her, almost sounding reproachful.</p><p> </p><p>"Your hands were pretty tight as it is, Sam, I didn't want to be a bother. Plus, I hate "I told you so's"."</p><p> </p><p>"So you'd rather go to jail than be proven wrong?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," Marlene replied seriously, "But it all worked out in the end." She preferred to ignore the fact that the police were still very much after her and a million other things that were tragically wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Sam shook his head, chuckling incredulously, "Sounds like you've had one hell of a week."</p><p> </p><p>"Says you," Marley scoffed, "Horsemen of the Apocalypse, huh? I should be more surprised but somehow I expected nothing less dreadful."</p><p> </p><p>"I have a feeling it's just the beginning."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, it is. If they're doing a costume reenactment of Revelation's hit verses, it's only only gonna get worse," Marley took a sip of her iced tea.</p><p> </p><p>Sam seemed contemplative, "Hey, you've noticed it too, right? The earthquakes, the storms? All the cataclysms?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, this stuff is all over the news. I'm starting to get jealous."</p><p> </p><p>"What I mean is...the same thing happened in River Pass. A bunch of weird omens, like river getting polluted, a huge shooting star," Marley was listening intently, brows twitched together in concentration. The river, the star — it was all from the Book of Revelation, "There's this town nearby, Tully — insane hailstorm, lighting strikes burnt almost thirty acres of land."</p><p> </p><p>Marley put the sandwich bake on the plate, "Sam...it could be nothing," she said gently, "I mean, fires are pretty common, right? Especially in rural areas like this. Doesn't seem that disastrous."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, but —" Sam broke off with a crestfallen sigh, "I guess it's...it's probably nothing. Sorry, I'm just..."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, it's fine," Marley assured him, "Weird shit's happening everywhere, you can't be too cautious."</p><p> </p><p>She hated to discourage him like that. Sam's eyes had practically lit up when he was talking about a potential case, something she hadn't seen since she got here. He didn't look like a man who'd got the much needed break. He looked tortured and restless.</p><p> </p><p>"Sam — " Marlene started tentatively, "Sorry if I'm prying, but...did something happen? In Colorado?"</p><p> </p><p>"No," Sam replied after a short pause, giving her a reassuring smile, "No, I just...realised that I wasn't ready to go back yet. Don't know if I'll ever be," he muttered, looking down into his plate.</p><p> </p><p>Marley decided to leave it at that. She knew there was more to it, but until Sam felt like sharing it with her, she would keep her mouth shut. It was one of the things her late Tata had taught her: "People are like flowers, jan," she'd say, "You need to have patience. Be gentle with them, nourish them, give them your love and they will bloom."</p><p> </p><p>And so she asked him about his life at Garber, about Lindsey who had the craziest crush on him, and serving drinks to drunks like his brother. There was no talk of the supernatural or the impending doom that humanity was facing — no, they talked about life. About school, where Marley was part of the cheerleading team (which Sam thought was extremely surprising). She told him about her father's enormous wine-cellar and how she'd still the cheapest bottles and sneak out to her friend's house where they'd hold their own wine-tasting. About the dog she'd got when she was 14 and promptly given away.</p><p> </p><p>"Look, I'd been asking my dad for a dog forever, and then he got it for me. And you know what?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam was already smiling, "What?"</p><p> </p><p>"I hated it. I've never been more disillusioned in my entire life," Marlene said, "Like, I had this whole personality build around wanting a dog, and then that happened, and I didn't know who I was anymore."</p><p> </p><p>"You had an existential crisis over a dog?" he asked, chuckling incredulously. It was ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>"Make fun of it all you want. It was a dark time in my life."</p><p> </p><p>"Really? What did you do, watch Lady and the Tramp and cry?"</p><p> </p><p>Marlene laughed, "Sam Winchester!" she exclaimed in scandalised disbelief, "You are terrible!"</p><p> </p><p>Laughter wouldn't stop ringing even as they left the little diner and took a walk down to the motel. It was already dark outside, the streets deserted as if the entire town was on a strict curfew. Sam would glance over at Marley every time she burst out laughing. He had never met someone who laughed with such abandon, so loudly and heartily. It was infectious, and he found himself joining in, if only to bask in that warmth a little longer. Dean was wrong, Sam thought. There was not a drop of darkness in that girl.</p><p> </p><p>But he knew she was hiding something. And that suspicion had nestled itself inside Sam's mind, raising its head every time he began to feel at ease.</p><p> </p><p>"So that guy, Brady. He basically parent-trapped you and Jess?" Marley turned to Sam. He looked wistful.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, you could say that."</p><p> </p><p>"You still in touch?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh...no. I kind of cut ties with everyone when I left."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," she said quietly, "I get it."</p><p> </p><p>Sam noticed the light of excitement dim in her eyes and felt a grave urge to reignite it. "You studied Linguistics, right?"</p><p> </p><p>The question brought a smile to her face. It was nice that Sam had actually remembered it, "That's right. Ancient languages and cultures."</p><p> </p><p>"Any particular reason?"</p><p> </p><p>"I was obsessed with Indiana Jones," Marlene told him, "I dressed up as him for Halloween for ten consecutive years."</p><p> </p><p>"How old were you?"</p><p> </p><p>"20 the last time," Marley replied casually. Sam laughed at her. "What? You never celebrated Halloween?"</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, no," he said like it was absurd, "Our whole life was practically one big Halloween party."</p><p> </p><p>They arrived at the dingy motel with a neon sign that hung from the roof like Damocles' sword, a gust of wind away from giving someone a very bad concussion. Sam walked to his room and fumbled for the key in his pockets. "You can have the bed, I'll take the couch," he said, opening the door.</p><p> </p><p>Marley smiled at the offer, "I...I kind of got my own room."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Sam looked at her sheepishly, "Okay, then —"</p><p> </p><p>"But thank you," Marlene added quickly, feeling her cheeks flare up, "It's...uh, it's really nice of you. Thanks," she began to slowly retreat towards her room, "Good night, Sam."</p><p> </p><p>He gave her a warm smile, eyes twinkling with amusement, "Good night, Marlene."</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Marlene felt like she was on a spa retreat. Nice dinner, good company, a walk in the fresh air and a hot shower? Absolute bliss. A bliss that for most people, was a normal evening. Marlene'd never had the time for long showers — she used to always be in a hurry, always on the move. Now, though, she had all the time in the world (as much of it that was left, anyway), and relished the scorching heat and the perfect water pressure.</p><p> </p><p>Sam Winchester, what a nice guy.</p><p> </p><p>It was a strange thought to have in the shower, but Marlene couldn't stop replaying his smile in her head. Sam was the kind of guy you wouldn't think twice about bringing in to meet your parents, the kind who was moderately nerdy and extremely well-read, incredibly handsome without coming off vain, yet using his charm when he had to.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene wished she'd met him all those years ago. He'd probably be a hot senior and she — a snotty freshman, dressed up as Indiana Jones. So she'd admire him from afar like the Holy Grail. And just like that, Marley's thoughts strayed even further, now preoccupied with her research about the emerald. She hadn't found anything except obscure articles from all around the world, claiming that a golden cup had been found, thought to be the Grail. They never were. And she wasn't even close to finding the answer to the question that bothered her most: why had her great grandfather been looking for that emerald?</p><p> </p><p>Marlene stilled when she heard a sound coming from outside the bathroom. Was that a knock? She turned off the water and jumped out of the shower, snatching a towel from the railing. Marley wrapped it hastily around her body and left the steaming bathroom. Crap, that was cold.</p><p> </p><p>More knocking. "I'm coming!" she yelled and opened the door..."Sam?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam gaped at her, thrown into a stupor. His eyes did a once-over of her towel-clad body and he instantly drew them away, "S-sorry — I...I'll leave," Sam spluttered, studying the potted plant by the door with a keen fascination. </p><p> </p><p>Marley suppressed a laugh at his sudden awkwardness, "It's fine," she told him, smiling, "Just, uh, give me a sec."</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the door was closed, she rushed to her bag and got dressed faster than she ever had for the morning lectures she was late to. Now in a pair of leggings and the Bulldogs sweatshirt she'd stolen from Maddock, Marley opened the door again. Sam chanced a hesitant look at her.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm dressed, Sam," Marley chuckled, "You can come in."</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, sorry about that."</p><p> </p><p>She closed the door behind him, "Relax, it's not like I was naked. So what's up? Everything's okay?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam put his laptop on the table and opened it, "I couldn't stop thinking about Tully. So I tried to look for Revelation omens and..." he clicked on a tab, and a scanned page from the Book of Revelation popped up, in Latin.</p><p> </p><p>And upon his rising, there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood, Marley translated. Hail and fire. She shot Sam a wary look, "Blood?"</p><p> </p><p>"We'd better make sure it doesn't get to that part."</p><p> </p><p>"Alright. Yeah, if we head out tomorrow — " Marley broke off when Sam lowered his eyes, "We're not going, are we?"</p><p> </p><p>"I can't, Marlene," he said quietly, "I don't trust myself around...around them. Not yet."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean, Sam?"</p><p> </p><p>"Back in River Pass, I — I almost caved again. The blood," Sam paced, his face contorted with torment, "If Dean...if he hadn't showed up, I would've done it," he looked at Marlene with his green, haunted eyes, "I would've done it."</p><p> </p><p>Now Marlene knew why he had left. It wasn't because he was tired or needed a break. It was because he was afraid of failing his brother again, of failing himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Sam — "</p><p> </p><p>"I gotta call Bobby," he said absently and grabbed his laptop, "Maybe he's got someone in the area to check out those omens." </p><p> </p><p>"Sam, come on, lets talk about it — "</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry for barging in, Marlene," Sam opened the door, "Good night."</p><p> </p><p>And he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Upstairs, Downstairs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Seven Devils </strong>
</p><p>Chapter 14 / Upstairs, Downstairs </p><p>"<em>Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>— Peter 5:8</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Alone in his room, Sam finally succumbed to his nagging suspicion. He pulled up all the files he could dig up on one Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan: publications, mentions, her social media, filled with bright, lively photos — Sam hadn't expected to see anything else. Even her university transcripts were impeccable, and there were no police records to date until March 2009 when everything had gone downhill. The entire world, really.</p><p>Marlene was a completely normal person. The kind Sam had always wished to become. However hard he tried though, something always dragged him back. Perhaps, it was just never meant to be. In a way, Sam was thankful for the childhood he'd had — it'd prepared him for what would eventually come. Yes, Marlene'd had it all, but now that it'd been taken away from her, she was absolutely lost. At least Sam had something to come back to.</p><p>He typed in her father's name and was surprised by the number of links that popped up. Marley wasn't kidding when she'd said that Arthur was a big deal. Going through the extensive list of his works on anthropology, Sam thought he'd actually read a couple of them in college. Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan really was a professor at Harvard and a highly distinguished one, at that — his faculty page was filled with numerous accolades.</p><p>Sam frowned, looking at Arthur's picture. What could a man like him be doing with the angels? An internationally renowned anthropologist with dozens of publications and unparalleled contribution to the field. It all looked so...polished. Perhaps, Arthur had struck a deal with a crossroads demon and needed a way out? That would definitely explain his success. But it didn't add up — Arthur had made a name for himself more than ten years ago. He would've already been dead. Yet everything about the Ter-Gabrielyan's was painstakingly outstanding, not a blemish on their family name.</p><p> </p><p>And in Sam's experience, no one had a cleaner record than people who had something to hide.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Marlene walked into the bar like a woman on a mission. She had the entire night to overthink everything Sam'd told her — for better or for worse — and she was ready to speak her sleep-deprived mind.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Lindsey," Marley called. The waitress turned around, surprised, a tray full of drinks in her hands, "Have you seen Sa — Keith? Have you seen Keith?"</p><p> </p><p>"He's over there," she pointed to the table in the back. There he was, talking to a couple of rugged-looking fellows. Marley frowned. Judging by Sam's face, the discussion wasn't a pleasant one. He looked absolutely miserable.</p><p> </p><p>"Who are these guys?" she asked.</p><p> </p><p>"Keith's buddies. Apparently, he's a <em>hunter</em>," Lindsey snorted.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene shot her a stunned look, "What did you just say?"</p><p> </p><p>"You know, a hunter? Shooting Bambie and stuff?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. Yeah, that's...disgusting," Marley replied distractedly, watching the table. After a few minutes, the three men stood up and Sam followed after them. Whatever they'd been talking about, they hadn't come to an agreement, that's for sure.</p><p> </p><p>Sam's hunting buddies brushed past Marlene like a whirlwind, radiating disgruntlement. She met the eyes of one of them for a brief moment. Yeah, she would't want to be a Bambie in his way.</p><p> </p><p>When the triumvirate of toxic masculinity finally left the bar, Marlene walked over to Sam. He was still standing at the table, dejected and lost. He didn't even notice her approach at first — his eyes were glued to the door.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you alright?" Marley asked, worried.</p><p> </p><p>Sam blinked away his thoughts and turned to her, "Hey, yeah, I'm just...those were the guys that Bobby sent." She quirked a brow. "To check out the omens?"</p><p> </p><p>"Wait, you were serious about that?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam gave her a confused look, "Why would you think I wasn't?" he walked to a table to clean it up. Marlene trailed after him.</p><p> </p><p>"Because — because, Sam, you know you have to do it. You <em>want</em> to do it." He pointedly ignored her imploring eyes, loading up plates onto the tray, "I don't believe you actually enjoy this Sweet Home Alabama shtick. You have to get out there and kick their ass."</p><p> </p><p>Sam let out a weary sigh, "Marlene, I already told you— I can't."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, you told me. And I heard you. But you know what? I don't care." Sam picked up the tray and turned to her, jaw set dangerously, "This world needs you right now, Sam Winchester. You can't just avoid it by hiding in this Hallmark dreamland."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not hiding — "</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, really? This apron really brings out your lies, Sam," Marley hissed. She was getting too loud and threw a cautious look around to make sure no one was staring, "The more you avoid it, the harder it will be to face," she whispered to him, "Believe me, I'd know. My father had been hiding me away from everything for 22 years. Now look how <em>that</em> turned out."</p><p> </p><p>Sam all but dropped the tray on the table and turned to face her, "Funny you should talk about lies, Marlene."</p><p> </p><p>She narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief, "Excuse me?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam threw the washcloths that was hanging over his shoulder on the table and walked to the backdoor. Marley hurried after him, adrenalin pumping through her body. Did he know? How had he found out?</p><p> </p><p>"What the hell was <em>that</em>?" she demanded as soon as they were in the alleyway.</p><p> </p><p>"Why is your father working with the angels?" Sam asked point-blank. Marlene halted.</p><p> </p><p>Her rage slightly faltered, "He's not working with them — "</p><p> </p><p>"You lied about his deal, about the demon blood — what else are you hiding?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sam — "</p><p> </p><p>"No, Marlene," he said measuredly, "I know you're not telling me something. Like, why was Lilith after you in the first place? And how did you get out of the Convent? God, there are so many things that just...don't add up."</p><p> </p><p>"Sam, I promise you, I'm not the bad guy here," Marlene took a step closer, reaching a hand towards him, "You <em>know</em> me. I'm trying to <em>help</em> — "</p><p> </p><p>Sam backed away, "Do I? Know you?" he looked at her like she was a stranger, "I think Dean was right. I trust too easily."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene flinched, her eyes burning. She knew Dean didn't trust her — he'd made it clear from the very beginning. But Sam...He'd made her think that he cared, that he listened, that they were in it together, only to later put a steaming load of shit onto all of it.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright then," she said cooly, "Go clean some tables and wallow in your misery while the world goes to shit. Poor Sam, who made all the wrong choices and can't stop feeling sorry for himself." Marlene could feel how deep her words cut. She could see it on Sam's face. "You know what? You're just a coward, Sam. I hope you enjoy all those people dying because you were too scared to pull your head out of the sand."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene walked away, feeling his eyes burn her alive.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>The ceiling in her room had 23 little holes in it. 3 strange splatters that were not from cranberry juice. A strange mould in the corner which could be potentially life threatening. And the dust in the lamps which struggled to stay alive had very possibly developed into its own entity.</p><p> </p><p>Marley heaved a sigh and continued to stare blankly into the ceiling. Perhaps, therein lay the answer to why she was feeling like absolute crap. Marlene wasn't a confrontational person. She was the kind of person who'd let her feeling simmer down to a boil and burn everything inside rather than risk spilling them on someone else. She prided herself on being able to rein in her emotions and move on.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, though, when the stress was too much to handle, Marley would let her mouth run a twenty-mile marathon.</p><p> </p><p>Did she feel guilty? Yes. Did she feel righteous? A little. Was she angry? Not anymore. Sam had been a dick, which is what Marlene had been telling herself all this time to justify every single word she'd said to him. But with every hour, this excuse seemed less and less valid, and by the end of the day, Marley started to feel like a dick herself. Sam had been right, even though he'd been a douche about it. She had been lying to him. Her father was working with the angels. "<em>They must know the truth, Marlene, and it's better that it comes from you.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>It was nearing midnight when she finally mustered up the courage to face him. Marlene figured Sam'd already finished up at the bar and went to knock on his door, but there was no reply. It could be one of two things: he was either really pissed at her and refused to open the door or he was still working.</p><p> </p><p>So Marlene decided to put all her eggs into the second basket and went for a little evening stroll.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Everyone had left an hour ago, but Sam stayed behind to clean up. Lindsey'd offered to take his shift — she'd noticed that he hadn't been himself all day and wanted to help. But Sam'd insisted that everything was alright and that he could do it himself. Because nothing was ever wrong with Sam.</p><p> </p><p>His couldn't stop thinking about Marlene's face, the pain in her eyes at his unnecessarily harsh words. Perhaps, they were true, perhaps she was lying, but Sam always felt like he could trust her. He wanted to trust her. He knew that Marlene trusted him too and then selfishly used it to hurt her.</p><p> </p><p>It was cruel what he'd done.</p><p> </p><p>Sam couldn't seem to stop hurting people and then wonder why they never stuck around.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't look back when the door chimed open, "We're closed!" he yelled out, polishing a table. When no sound followed, Sam turned around. He froze, "Marlene?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, Sam," she mumbled sheepishly, "Can we...can we, uh, talk?"</p><p> </p><p>It took him a moment to recover from shock, "Marlene, I'm <em>so</em> sorry. What I said — "</p><p> </p><p>"No, no <em>I'm</em> sorry," Marley walked closer to him, "I didn't mean a single word. Not one. Sam, you're the last person I'd call a coward," she huffed out a laugh, "If anything, <em>I'm</em> the coward for not having the guts to tell you the truth this whole time."</p><p> </p><p>"Guess we both have some apologising to do," Sam told her, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Marley breathed a sigh of relief. Now, it hadn't been that hard. The worst part was still to come, though. "I wanted to tell you, Sam, I did. It just never seemed like the right time."</p><p> </p><p>He gestured to the empty bar, dimly lit by the street lamps outside, "Now's as good a time as any."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It's now or never, Marlene</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You were right, my father <em>is</em> working with the angels," she said slowly, "But it's not what you think."</p><p> </p><p>Sam's eyes held no malice or distrust like they did the last time. He looked patient, understanding, "I don't think anything, Marlene. I just want the truth,"</p><p> </p><p>She worried her lip to the point where she could taste blood. What if Sam thought she's a monster? What if that would break the little trust he had left? Marley glanced up at him, face a grimace of indecision. He gave her an encouraging nod. "Sam," she let out a shaky sigh, "My family — "</p><p> </p><p>The chime startled both of them. Marlene's head whipped to the door and she stilled. There was one of the man she'd seen earlier that day, one of Sam's "hunting buddies" as Lindsey'd put it. The one who'd looked at her when he passed by. Only now he was covered in blood and grime.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Tim," Sam said slowly, brows furrowed. Clearly, they hadn't agreed on having drinks that evening.</p><p> </p><p>Tim looked at Marley, his face devoid of any expression. The darkness in his eyes unsettled her. "Something you want to tell me, Sam?" he asked, kneading his bloody knuckles. </p><p> </p><p>Sam frowned, "What? No..."</p><p> </p><p>"You sure about that?"</p><p> </p><p>"I — I don't know — jeez. Are you okay? Where are Reggie and Steve?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, Steve's good," Tim said sarcastically and walked inside. Marlene moved closer to Sam, "He's, uh, his guts are lying roadside outside the Hawley Five and Dime."</p><p> </p><p>Her stomach churned at the gruesome image. Sam had been right about the omens in Tully. <em>And upon his rising, there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood. <b>Blood</b>.</em> They hadn't been able to stop it.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," Sam said.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry don't cut it, Sam."</p><p> </p><p>He cut Tim a confused look, "What do you want me to say?"</p><p> </p><p>"The <em>truth</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene looked from Sam to Tim, who was growing increasingly frustrated.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, fine," he greeted out, "Let me give you some of my own, then. We go into town, we catch ourselves a demon, we get jumped by ten more. Steve bought it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm <em>sorry</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Saying it twice don't make it so, Sam. You see, this demon, he, uh, he told us things." Marley glanced over at Sam. He was struggling to keep his composure, "Crazy things. Things about you, Sam."</p><p> </p><p>"Demons lie."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah?" Sam nodded. It didn't seem to convince Tim, "I'm gonna ask you one last time. The <em>truth</em>. Now."</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, why don't we all calm down?" Marley said, her voice shaking. Tim cut her an annoyed glare, "Let's get you a drink, yeah? And you two can talk about it — "</p><p> </p><p>Tim scowled, "Oh, I'm done talkin'."</p><p> </p><p>The door chimed opened again and in came one of Tom's friends, a tall dark-skinned guy, dragging Lindsey inside with him. The girl looked terrified, her face stained with tears as she tried to wriggle her way out.</p><p> </p><p>"Lindsey!" Sam screamed.</p><p> </p><p>The man held a knife to her neck. "What's going on?" she cried.</p><p> </p><p>Sam wanted to launch forward and beat the crap out of the bastards, but he knew that a single wrong move could cost Lindsey her life. So he held his hands up to placate them, "Just take it easy, okay?" Sam said carefully, "Put the knife down."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene, though, decided to throw caution to the wind. As soon as Tim's buddy brought the knife to Lindsey's neck, she pulled out the gun from her belt and pointed it at Tim. Sam turned to her in shock, eyes widening at the weapon in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>"Tell your girlfriend to put away the gun, Sam," Tim told him, keeping his eyes on Marley, "Or the girl dies." The dark-skinned man brought the knife closer to Lindsey's throat.</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked at Marlene pleadingly. God, if only she knew how to fight, they could've taken those guys down together. After a moment's hesitation, Marley's hand wavered and she lowered the gun, burning Tim with a seething glare.</p><p> </p><p>"Be a darling and slide it over to me." Begrudgingly, she did so. Tim picked up the gun.</p><p> </p><p>"The <em>knife</em>," Sam demanded.</p><p> </p><p>Tim gave his friend a nod. The guy put the knife down on the bar but didn't let go of Lindsey. At least now, she wasn't in any immediate danger. "It's true," Sam finally told them, "What the demons said, it's all true."</p><p> </p><p>Tim looked back at his friend, then glared at Sam, "Keep going."</p><p> </p><p>"Why? You gonna hate me any less? Am I gonna hate <em>myself</em> any less? What do you want?"</p><p> </p><p>"I want to hear you <em>say</em> it."</p><p> </p><p>Sam's eyes burned defiantly, his chest heaving, "I did it," he greeted out in a challenge, "I started the Apocalypse."</p><p> </p><p>Tim shook his head, and scoffed, "You son of a bitch."</p><p> </p><p>Lindsey, still in the hunter's grip, stared at Sam in horror. He had to look away to avoid facing yet another person he'd let down.</p><p> </p><p>"That's all you came here for?" Marley asked, "A confession?"</p><p> </p><p>Tim threw her a dismissive look, "You stay out of it, girl."</p><p> </p><p>"Psycho <em>and</em> sexist," Marlene drawled, "Boy, you're a whole package."</p><p> </p><p>"You'd better watch your mouth — "</p><p> </p><p>Sam stepped forward, shielding Marley away from him, "<em>What</em> do you <em>want</em>, Tim?"</p><p> </p><p>Tim levelled her with a derisive glare and took something out from the pocket of his coat. It was a vial of red liquid. Which bore an awful resemblance to blood.</p><p> </p><p>"What is that?" Sam asked, his voice shaking. He already knew the answer. He could smell it.</p><p> </p><p>"What do you think it is?" Tim rolled the vial between his fingers, "It's go juice, Sammy boy."</p><p> </p><p>Marley's stomach dropped. She looked over at Sam and noticed his whole body trembling, lip curling into a snarl. He was struggling to fight it.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I don't trust myself around them.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>I almost caved again. The blood</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Get that away from me," Sam hissed.</p><p> </p><p>"Away from you? No," Tim sneered, holding up the vial as he walked closer to him, "This is <em>for</em> you. Hell, if that demon wasn't right as rain. Down the hatch, son."</p><p> </p><p>"You're insane," Sam spat.</p><p> </p><p>"Look, here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna drink this, Hulk out," Marley's eyes flashed to Lindsey. Tim's crony had her handcuffed to the bar, "And you're gonna waste every one of the demon scum that killed my best friend," Tim turned to the waitress, "Or she dies."</p><p> </p><p>"You wouldn't do that," Sam said.</p><p> </p><p>"It's funny how watching your best friend die changes that," Tim and the other guy advanced on Sam. He stepped back, grabbing Marley by the arm to push her behind, "Come on, you know you want it, Sam. Just reach out and take it."</p><p> </p><p>The dark-skinned guy prowled closer, his eyes glowing with malice. Marley glanced at the vial. If Sam took it, if he drank the blood...he would never recover. Not again. Not from this — "<em>I</em> can do it," she stepped forward. </p><p> </p><p>Sam turned to her, "Marlene, what — "</p><p> </p><p>"<em>You?</em>" Tim derided, "And who the hell are you?"</p><p> </p><p>"You give me that blood and you find out," Marley challenged.</p><p> </p><p>"Marlene," Sam hissed at her, "You don't know what you're doing..."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene extended her hand, "The blood?"</p><p> </p><p>Tim and his friend exchanged wary looks, "See, the demon said nothing about you, so I'm not gonna take any chances," he said, mouth curled into a mocking smirk, "Move away, or I'll make ya."</p><p> </p><p>Marley stood taller, holding his eyes defiantly, "Then make me."</p><p> </p><p>"Marlene, get away," Sam whispered, "Don't you dare — "</p><p> </p><p>"Alright," Tim said after some consideration, "So you say you can do what he does?" he pointed at Sam.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"She can't," Sam cut in, "I'll take it."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, now isn't that gallant? But, you see..." Tim strolled up to Marlene, "...we might as well just have ourself a little experiment. What do you say?" he looked at her and Sam, "After all, two freaks are better than one, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're <em>sick</em>," Marley breathed. Tim grabbed her by the arm an hauled her closer.</p><p> </p><p>Sam's face turned furious and jerked forward to push him away from Marlene, but was stopped by Reggie his way. Marlene struggled against Tim's grip as he uncorked the vial and brought it to her lips, "Didn't think I'd hand that right to ya, did you?" he hissed in her ear and tipped the vial. The warm liquid flooded her mouth. It was thick and tasted of copper, making Marlene nauseous. She felt an overpowering urge to spit it out, but before she could open her mouth, Tim pressed his hand to it so she'd swallow. Marley convulsed against it like a writhing snake and sank her teeth into his palm. Tim jerked his hand away, hissing from pain, "You bitch!"</p><p> </p><p>Right in that moment, Sam charged at Reggie. He knocked him down and straddled him, landing a series of ferocious blows on his face. Tim rushed to help his friend and grabbed Sam from the behind, choking him. But he had another thing coming. With an animalistic snarl, Sam sent an elbow straight into Tim's nose, then whipped around and slammed him into the bar. He grabbed Reggie's knife and held it to Tim's throat, breathing heavily.</p><p> </p><p>A whimper broke Sam out of the violent daze. He noticed Lindsey watching, her big blue eyes wide with fear. Sam looked at Tim, lip curled in disgust, and threw him over to Reggie.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Go</em>," Sam pointed to the door.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't think we won't be back," Tim snarled.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't think I won't be here."</p><p> </p><p>Reggie and Tim stumbled out of the bar, the door chiming closed behind them. Sam wiped away the blood off his face with a sleeve of his shirt and looked over at Lindsay to see if she was alright. But the girl was staring at something behind him. Frowning, Sam turned around and saw Marlene sprawled on the floor, convulsing.</p><p> </p><p>"Marlene!" he rushed to her and picked her shaking body up, "Marlene? Marlene!"</p><p> </p><p>"S-sam," Marley croaked and then broke out in a violent fit of coughing. Sam pushed the tousled hair away from her ashen face, and saw blood trickling from her mouth and down her nose. Her entire face was stained with it.</p><p> </p><p>And then she stilled.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Marlene had never thought that opening your eyes could be such a gruelling feat. It's like her eyelids weighed a whole ton and wouldn't lift without some assistance. They felt dry and crusty, and burned every time she tried to move them.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, her entire body felt like it was on fire, like her blood was boiling. A liquid inferno suffusing her veins, scorching her nerves, melting her skin. Is that what Hell felt like? Dante's seventh circle, condemning her to an eternity buried in a burning tomb.</p><p> </p><p>"Marlene?" she heard a voice. Was that Virgil? Did he come to lead her through the gates of Hell? "Marlene?"</p><p> </p><p>Marley fluttered her eyes open, hesitant to meet the light after hours spent in the darkness. She was lying on a bed, in a motel room. In Garber, Oklahoma. Where she'd come to see Sam. <em>Sam</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene turned to look at him, wincing from the pain in her entire body. He was sitting by the bed, head buried in his hands. His hair was a mess, his clothes askew and covered in blood. Her blood. "Sam?" she whispered.</p><p> </p><p>His head shot up, "You're awake," Sam said in disbelief. His eyes were darker, bloodshot. Sunken. The sun was already up. Had he been sitting here this whole time?</p><p> </p><p>"Starting to wish I wasn't," Marley muttered, her body an aching mess. The last time she felt like that was after a hot pilates class Tessa had dragged her to in her yearly aspiration to stay fit. It'd usually lasted a week.</p><p> </p><p>"How are you feeling?"</p><p> </p><p>Marlene tried to lift herself up into a sitting position, "Achy. <em>Exhausted</em>," she said, "How long was I out?"</p><p> </p><p>"Almost twelve hours"</p><p> </p><p>Okay, that wasn't that bad. After what'd happened, Marley thought it would be something in the lines of an entire year. What exactly had happened, though?</p><p> </p><p>"Do you feel any...different?" Sam raised a brow, clearly referring to the reason of her hangover.</p><p> </p><p>Marley shrugged, "I certainly feel <em>worse</em>. But no urge to crush and destroy, if that's what you mean."</p><p> </p><p>"Huh," Sam breathed almost in wonder, "That's interesting."</p><p> </p><p>"Interesting?"</p><p> </p><p>"Well of course, that's not the reaction I was expecting," he told her casually, sounding mildly disappointed. And different. Marley stiffened when the realisation finally hit her. "Your body rejected the blood. Like a disease," the creature squinted its eyes in fascination, "To <em>purify</em> itself. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised, right? My little brother's blood and all. I wonder if that makes you my niece," he considered the thought and quickly discarded it with a frown, "Ah, no. That would make it weird."</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What? —</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"What the hell are you talking about?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam smiled an indulgent, patronising smile, "All in good time, little one. All in good time. My father <em>does</em> reword patience, after all. And I hear you desperately want to win a ticket to Heaven. But I'll let you in on a little secret," he all but purred and leaned closer, "It's much more fun downstairs."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She woke up with a snap of his fingers. Marlene shot up from the pillow, sucking in a sharp breath of air, eyes jumping around the room in panic. She <em>knew</em>. She finally knew...</p><p> </p><p>Sam was instantly by her side, "Marlene? Are you — " she flinched away from his touch, looking like a lost, wounded animal. Confused, Sam raised his hands and stepped away, "Alright, it's okay..." he said slowly. Too busy hyperventilating, Marley didn't immediately notice that his face was painted with concern, and his eyes filled with worry. That is was not...<em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"What happened, Marlene?" Sam asked when she'd visibly relaxed. But there was still an unsettling, haunted look in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That's not the reaction I was expecting.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"S-Sam," she whispered shakily, looking up, "I need to tell you something."</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Thelma & Louise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Seven Devils </strong>
</p><p>Chapter 15 / Thelma &amp; Louise </p><p>"<em>They will do no wrong; they will tell no lies. A deceitful tongue will not be found in their mouths. They will eat and lie down and no one will make them afraid.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>— Zephaniah 3:13</p><hr/><p><br/>It was like a dam had collapsed, and water poured out in crashing torrents, shattering all the lies in its way. Marlene told him everything. About Gabriel, about the curse on her family and the truth about her father. She watched Sam closely through all of it to gauge his reaction, but his face remained inscrutable, a single crease between his brows to signify deep contemplation. He didn't ask questions, never made an attempt to interrupt her — he just listened. Closely and silently.</p><p> </p><p>Even after her story had been finished and there were no secrets left to unravel, even <em>then</em> Sam didn't hurry to speak his mind. He just sat there, on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, like the statue of the Thinker.</p><p> </p><p>"So your father freed Lilith?" Sam finally asked after the prolonged silence. It wasn't even a question, really. Just a very grim statement.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene wet her chapped lips, "Y-yes. He...um, he gave Zachariah the last key to her cage."</p><p> </p><p>"The emerald?"</p><p> </p><p>She nodded hesitantly. Why didn't he get angry? Marley wanted him to hate her, to yell at her — anything but this quiet, pensive daze. At one point she'd even thought that, perhapsm her father's mistake would somehow alleviate Sam's. That maybe, just maybe, he would stop blaming himself for what he'd done so harshly, knowing that it was Arthur who'd flipped the first tile.</p><p> </p><p>But looking at Sam now, Marlene wasn't sure she'd alleviated anything. She only made things worse.</p><p> </p><p>"Marlene, I...that's — "</p><p> </p><p>"I know," she said quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Sam looked over at her, "Why didn't you say something?"</p><p> </p><p>"Do you even need to ask?"</p><p> </p><p>He lapsed into an unnerving silence again. The one that made Marlene wonder what was going on inside his head, beneath that luscious main of chestnut hair.</p><p> </p><p>"Does this mean you're Gabriel's...<em>daughter?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"No. <em>No</em>, God, no," Marley spluttered. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. Yes, Arthur wasn't father of the year, but Gabriel? <em>Perish the thought</em>. "It's...very complicated. I mean, technically, his blood <em>is</em> running though my veins...sort of," she considered it a little longer, "A little bit of it. I guess what...what happened that night might've triggered it somehow. The same must've happened yesterday. When Tim fed me the blood? My body tried to fight it, like...like a <em>virus</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>To purify itself.</em>" Marley shook her head to silence the echo. Should she tell Sam about it? She had to. Because she had a sneaking suspicion about who that creature was. God, Marlene never wanted to close her eyes ever again.</p><p> </p><p>"There's something else," she said tentatively. Sam turned to her, "I've been having these dreams..." <em>We don't want Sammy to worry, do we?</em> Marlene squeezed her eyes shut for a second and opened them to Sam's worried face. When had he got so close? "There's, uh...there's a <em>man</em>. He's always there." Marley looked him right in the eye, voice trembling, "Sam, I think that's him. I think that's Lucifer."</p><p> </p><p>He didn't appear as surprised as she'd expected. In fact, he wasn't surprised at all.</p><p> </p><p>"What did he tell you?" </p><p> </p><p>"He — he speaks in riddles, doesn't say much. He's mostly just...there to drive me mad. I — I don't know what he wants." The acute distress on Sam's face didn't escape her, "What? What is it?"</p><p> </p><p>"I saw him too," he confessed, "Last night."</p><p> </p><p>"You did?" Marley asked, mystified, "Did — did he tell you what he wants?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," Sam stood up and walked to the window. Then he turned to her, "He wants <em>me</em>, Marlene. I'm his true vessel. At least that's what he said."</p><p> </p><p>She sat up straighter on the bed, ignoring the searing pain, "<em>What?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"I think he possessed someone, but that body isn't strong enough to hold him. He needs me," Sam came over to Marlene; pensive, disturbed, "I guess that's why Azazel turned all of us. To choose the strongest vessel for Lucifer for when he came back."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene frowned, "Like the Bachelor?" It was the best her foggy, bewildered mind could come up with.</p><p> </p><p>Sam heaved an exasperated sigh, "Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"But why would he come to <em>me?</em> What could he possibly want with me?"</p><p> </p><p>"I...I don't know, Marlene," he said grimly. Clearly, he had some theories.</p><p> </p><p>Marley was afraid to even contemplate Lucifer's sick designs. "<em>He told me I could have my fun</em>" Lilith'd said. "<em>It's more about having something that the angels cannot...</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"He can't possess you without your consent though, right?" she asked anxiously, "He's still an angel."</p><p> </p><p>"No, but he'll do anything to get it. Looks like he's already started," Sam muttered, pacing the small motel room. </p><p> </p><p>How ironic was that and how twisted? Sam and Dean — vessels for the tragic heavenly brothers, destined to ruin each other and turn the world to dust. Was that how it was always supposed to be? How it was supposed to end?</p><p> </p><p>"Did you tell Dean?" Sam gave a single, curt nod. "Well, what did he say?"</p><p> </p><p>"We decided to go our separate ways," he said casually, thought there was an unmistakable sorrow in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>"You decided to <em>what now</em>?" Marley exclaimed incredulously. "Sam, we only have a chance of winning if we're in it <em>together</em>. Divide and conquer is <em>not</em> the way to go here —"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, but together, we're sitting ducks for Michael and Lucifer," Sam told her, but the words sounded foreign coming from him. He hardly believed in what he was saying, "It's better if we split up."</p><p> </p><p><em>Better for who?</em> Marlene wanted to ask. But she would never let herself go like she had the night before. It was obvious that Sam wasn't ready to hear what she had to say. To hear anything, for that matter — he looked absolutely lost and only made it more obvious by trying to act like it was his idea.</p><p> </p><p>She only hoped that Dean would pull his head out of his righteous ass.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fucking angels.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean'd been thinking that a lot these days. Out of gas? Fucking angels. Card being declined? Fucking angels. Time travelling to 2014 and being dumped in the zombie apocalypse ground zero? You guessed it.</p><p> </p><p>He should've known it was Zachariah. It had his smug fat face written all over it. The bastard wanted to teach him a lesson? Well, Dean was 'bout to shove that freaking lesson right into his celestial ass.</p><p> </p><p>But first he needed to figure out what the hell was going on. All he knew was what Zachariah had told him: apparently, this was the world in which Dean'd refused Michael, Sam'd spread his legs before Lucifer and everything had gone to shit. That was certainly a nice start. So Dean came to the only place he could think of.</p><p> </p><p>Bobby's house looked like crap. It'd certainly never been a palace, but the apocalypse sure hadn't made it prettier. "Bobby? Bobby, I'm coming in!" Dean yelled. The place was completely trashed. It wasn't the usual organised chaos, with books laying around while Bobby did his research. No, it was just regular chaos, with shit turned upside down. And judging by the spider webs and the dust, it had been awhile ago.</p><p> </p><p>With a strange feeling of premonition, Dean walked into the living room. "Oh, no," he breathed, spotting Bobby's wheelchair on he floor, flipped over. When he reached down put it straight, Dean noticed bullets holes on the back of the seat. Stained with dried, crusty blood.</p><p> </p><p>"Where is everybody, Bobby?" he wondered out loud, looking around the rampaged room.</p><p> </p><p>Dean went to the fireplace and opened a hidden compartment beneath the mantlepiece — that's where Bobby always kept his journal. Whatever questions Dean had, he knew that he'd find the answers in there.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled out the journal and found an aged black-and-white photo of Bobby with some guys dressed in military uniform and...Cass? They were posing with guns in hand in front of a sign.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>WELCOME TO<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br/><br/></span></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>CAMP CHITAQUA</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean was standing in front of that same sign a few hours later. It looked more ominous during night-time, like some kind of a secret government facility. And by the looks of it, Dean's guess wasn't too far off: a couple of guys, armed with weighty guns, were patrolling the perimeter inside the wired fence.</p><p> </p><p>Dean crouched a little, moving stealthily to avoid the light of their flashlights. He wouldn't won't to be caught sneaking around their camp. Especially after he'd seen what those guys did to the infected in the city. He doubted they were the "ask questions, shoot later" type of folk.</p><p> </p><p>But Dean was yet to see the greatest victim of this post-apocalyptic hellhole. He had never knew true heartache until he caught sight of the Impala, abandoned in the rubble, wrecked and rusted. "Oh, baby, no," Dean whispered and headed over there to take a closer look at it. He found a way around the fence and approached the car too peer inside the driver's seat. "Oh, no. Baby, what did they do to you?" he groaned, grief-stricken.</p><p> </p><p>Dean thought he heard rustling behind him, but before he could turn around, he was knocked out.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Sam and Marlene decided to go to Bobby's while they figured out what to do next. It was as good a place as any to recuperate and come up with a plan to save the world and flip both Lucifer and his overbearing big brother a fat, heavenly bird.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But there was a long way to go from Garber to Sioux Falls — nine hours, spent in the car with Sam Winchester, the walking and driving but, apparently, not talking statue. They'd taken her shabby rental pickup, curtesy of Garth. And since Marlene was too weak to get behind the wheel, Sam'd volunteered to do it. Actually, Sam had told her to hop into the passenger seat in no uncertain terms, and Marley'd felt too guilt-ridden to contradict him.</p><p> </p><p>Sam had every right to be mad at her. And at Dean — hell, even <em>she</em> was mad at him. Only Marlene would've liked Sam to be a different kind of mad. The kind that didn't stare blankly at the winding road and said more than two words per hour. The last time Sam'd spoken was when they'd got into the car and he'd seen an ungodly amount of fast-food packs and candy wrappers in the backseat. Even then, it was only a disappointed sigh and a reproachful, disbelieving look that said, "That's what you've been eating?" Marlene thought it best not to tell him that that's where she'd been sleeping too.</p><p> </p><p>Sam's perpetual grumpiness'd started to get on Marlene's nerves approximately two gas-stops into the road trip from hell. She'd find herself glancing over at his stoic profile from time to time, in the hope of seeing the frown gone from his face. <em>Alas</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Marley was feeling bored, and restless, and incredibly drowsy. But every time she'd give in and close her eyes, she would shake herself awake. Marlene couldn't allow herself to fall asleep. She couldn't see him again.</p><p> </p><p>Sam glanced over at her, "You need to sleep, Marlene." And it speaks.</p><p> </p><p>"I really don't," she muttered, rubbing her eyes until she saw stars. Well, that was a nice little talk.</p><p> </p><p>With an pointed sigh of annoyance that Marley hoped hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam, she reached forward and turned on the radio.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan is still at large —</em> "</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Louisiana is bracing for the largest storm since Hurricane Katrina. The governor has declared a state of emergency —</em> "</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, for fuck's sake</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>...more than a million acres of land have burned in California, and the number is rapidly growing. Many people've lost their homes, Gary —</em> "</p><p> </p><p>Sam shuffled restlessly in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tighter. Marley changed the station again — this time, it was Taylor Swift's voice that came through.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And my daddy said, "Stay away from Juliet"</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And I was cryin' on the staircase</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Beggin' you, "Please —</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Hey!" Marley exclaimed indignantly, turning to Sam, "I was listening to that."</p><p> </p><p>"I did both of us a favour."</p><p> </p><p>She squinted at him. The <em>nerve</em>, "It <em>is</em> my car, you know."</p><p> </p><p>"But driver picks the music."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene sighed and fell into the back of her seat, arms crossed, "Well, at least you're talking now. That silent passive-aggression was driving me nuts."</p><p> </p><p>Sam threw a bewildered look at her, "<em>Silent passive-agression?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Your way of punishing me for lying."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not <em>punishing you</em>," he said incredulously.</p><p> </p><p>"Then why does it feel like you are?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam shrugged, "Maybe because you're feeling guilty," he said matter-of-factly.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not. I told you everything," Marlene turned away to look at the road, "You even saw me half-naked, there's <em>literally</em> no secrets between us."</p><p> </p><p>He looked at her askance, cheeks tinged with a pale shade of pink, "I'm not punishing you, Marlene," he said measuredly.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright, then. Because I already told you how sorry I am."</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence. "I just think you could've told us earlier. If we'd known about the emerald, perhaps, we could've used it against Lilith — "</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, <em>please</em>," Marlene scoffed, secretly pleased to have gotten something out of him, "You and Ruby had your hands pretty full as it was."</p><p> </p><p>Sam fell silent, jaws clenched as he resumed his stare-off with the road ahead. Marley wanted to scream. "What else should we discuss?" she wondered pretty obnoxiously, "Perhaps, your and Dean's <em>mutual</em> decision to take a pause and reinvent yourselves?"</p><p> </p><p>"What do you want me to say, Marlene?" Sam asked wanly.</p><p> </p><p>"I want you to admit that you're angry, for God's sake! Or not for his sake, because I don't think he cares that much anymore," Marley mumbled with a thoughtful frown. She sighed and turned to him, "Sam, I lied to your face, my father is almost single-handedly responsible for the Apocalypse and Dean is being a total dick — why aren't you mad?"</p><p> </p><p>Sam ignored her more intently. "You did one shitty thing and now what? Everything pales in comparison? Well, I've got a newsflash for you, Winchester: you don't have the monopoly on fucking up."</p><p> </p><p>"Can we please not talk about it right now?" Sam implored. Only the white of his knuckles indicated the true level of his inner turmoil, "Let's just get to Bobby's and go from there, alright?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Fine</em>. Marley gave him a side-eye and turned away to the window. The car seemed even smaller now. God, she couldn't imagine another four hours of silence —</p><p> </p><p>The engine made a series of chocking sounds, couching up a cloud of smoke. And after wobbling down the road for a few seconds, the car stopped altogether. Sam tried to restart it a few times, but there was no response — the control panel was completely dark</p><p> </p><p>With a tortured sigh, Marley looked outside at miles and miles of green fields.</p><p> </p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>Dean was beginning to break a sweat — pulling out a nail from the floorboard was harder than it looked. His entire face was contorted in concentration, shining beads running down his forehead. God, he couldn't believe he was such a dick. Handcuffing himself to a ladder? Dean would never do that. What kind of sick bastard would he become in five years?</p><p> </p><p>"Come, on," he muttered, glaring at the nail that just wouldn't come out...until it did. Dean held it up like a trophy and began to fiddle with the lock.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you doing?"</p><p> </p><p>He almost dropped the frigging nail. Dean whipped his head to the door and saw a little boy standing in the threshold, watching him. "Heeeey there, buddy. Mind helping me out?"</p><p> </p><p>The boy giggled, "You're being silly."</p><p> </p><p>"A "no" then," Dean sighed and resumed his ministrations. The boy just stood there, watching him, which Dean thought was creepy, like the Shining creepy. He let out an annoyed sigh and looked up, "Why don't you go play ball with you friends, yeah?"</p><p> </p><p>"I don't have any friends," the boy said plainly.</p><p> </p><p>Dean raised his brows. Well, it least he was honest. "How did you get in here?"</p><p> </p><p>"I opened the door."</p><p> </p><p><em>Alright</em>. With a sweet-sounding click in the lock, Dean took off the handcuffs and stood up. His head was still kind of hurting from the blow. God, what a freaking asshole. He walked to the door and stuck his head out to see if there was someone outside. When Dean was certain that the coast was clear, he left the house.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you doing?" the boy wondered, trailing after him.</p><p> </p><p>Dean threw him a side-eye look, "I'm trying not to get — "</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, Dean." He turned around, stumped. Chuck was approaching him, looking all business. When the prophet noticed the small boy, his brows shot up in surprise, "Hey there, Robby.</p><p> </p><p>"Hello, Chuck," the boy replied in a sweet voice.    </p><p> </p><p>Chuck smiled at him, endeared by the toothless grin, then looked up at Dean, "Hey, you got a second?"</p><p> </p><p>"No — yes. Uh, I — I guess. Hi, Chuck."</p><p> </p><p>Chuck glanced down at Robby, who was still standing there. Then at Dean again, with a slight frown, like he couldn't process them being together, "Hi. So, uh, listen, we're pretty good on canned goods for now, but we're down to next to nothing on perishables and — and hygiene supplies. People are not gonna be happy about this. So, what do you think we should do?"</p><p> </p><p>Dean wanted him to repeat all of it because he didn't think he'd heard a single thing. "I — I don't know," he said slowly. Chuck squinted at him, confused. Dammit, "Maybe, uh, <em>share</em>? You know, like at a kibbutz."</p><p> </p><p>Robby was gazing up at them, eyes jumping from Dean to Chuck. The prophet frowned, "Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be out on a mission right now?"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Absolutely</em>," Dean quickly recovered, "And I will be."</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Chuck's eyes shot to something behind him, "Uh-oh," he breathed in panic.</p><p> </p><p>"Robby!" a woman's voice called out. Dean turned back and saw a familiar brunette advancing on them, her face the picture of fury, "Robby, I told you not to leave!" Marlene was out of breath, her cheeks slightly flushed. She crouched down to the boy and brushed his dark curly hair away, "What were you thinking?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, mommy," he mumbled sheepishly.</p><p> </p><p>Dean's brows flew up. Marlene had a <em>kid</em>? He did look like her, he now realised. With the same mop of chestnut hair and hazel eyes. That were now glaring at him. "You were with him?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes?" Dean replied.</p><p> </p><p>Marlene looked exhausted. Older. She sighed and rose to her feet, "Look, Dean, I thought we had an agreement —"</p><p> </p><p>"Mommy, uncle Dean didn't do nothing. I promise! It was all me, I ran away!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Uncle Dean?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"<em>'Didn't do anything'</em>," Marley corrected and glared at Dean, "And Uncle Dean never does anything, does he?" she said, voice drenched in derision, "Come on, Robby." Marlene took the little boy by the hand and led him away.</p><p> </p><p>What else had his dick-alter ego done?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br/><br/></span></p><p>𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Tyro, Kansas</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Marlene and Sam awaited the verdict with bated breath, watching the mechanic assess the damage. At last, the man shut the hood of the car and wiped his greasy hands with a cloth, "It ain't lookin' good. The alternator's burned all the insides, I gotta replace the battery and see if it works."</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded slowly, "Okay, sure. How...exactly how long is it going to take?"</p><p> </p><p>"Two, three days?" the man shrugged, "I'll let ya know."</p><p> </p><p><em>Now isn't it just great,</em> Marley groaned internally.</p><p> </p><p>"Is there anywhere we could stay?" she said instead, "A motel, perhaps?"</p><p> </p><p>The mechanic scoffed, "Yeah, you ain't gonna find no five star hotels 'round <em>here</em>. But there's pastor Wilkinson's farm up the hill, he'll sure take you in like a good christian."</p><p> </p><p>Marley and Sam shared a look and seemed to both decide that it was the best possible option at the moment. The town of Tyro — which could hardly be called a town, really, more like a village — had been the nearest one to their car.</p><p> </p><p>"I could give you a lift if you want," the man offered.</p><p> </p><p>Sam gave him an grateful smile, "That'd be great, thank you."</p><p> </p><p>"Just give me a minute, I gotta finish something up."</p><p> </p><p>Rory disappeared into the backroom, leaving Marlene and Sam alone for the first time since their fight. She chanced a glance at Sam and caught him doing the same. They both looked away. "So...this should be a fun retreat," Marley said.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," Sam huffed out a dry laugh, but then his face went still. Confused by the sudden shift, Marlene followed his eyes and saw a police car drive up to the auto repair shop.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, no," she whispered, heart beginning to race from panic. How had they found her? She'd been so careful...</p><p> </p><p>"Calm down," Sam whispered, eyes trained on the police car, It could be a coincidence — "</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, or it <em>couldn't</em>," she hissed.</p><p> </p><p>The police officer got out of the car, the star on his hat glimmering in the sun. He took a look around and then walked into the garage. Marley instinctively snuck behind Sam's tall frame and bowed her head.</p><p> </p><p>"Hi," the officer said, taking off his hat, "Sheriff Dickson. You two just passin' though?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, our, uh, car broke down on the road. Rory helped us get it here," Sam replied with perfect nonchalance. Marlene hoped to someday achieve that level of composure. Now though, was not the time to begin. She fixed her hair so that they covered the right side of her face.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, welcome to Tyro," the sheriff drawled, "Is Rory still around by any chance?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, I think he's in — "</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be damned," the mechanic came out from the backroom, "What a pleasant surprise, chief."</p><p> </p><p>The sheriff didn't look like he came for a good old chat, though. His face was grim, "Rory, why don't you sit down?"</p><p> </p><p>The man sighed, "What have my son done now, sir? Whatever it is, he ain't gettin' away with it this time. His momma's gonna whoop his lilly-white ass — "</p><p> </p><p>"Rory, Charlie died."</p><p> </p><p>The sheriff's words struck Rory like a flash of lightning. The man stilled, his flushed face a mixture of disbelief, shock and grief, "What did you just say?"</p><p> </p><p>"I'm very sorry," the sheriff lowered his eyes, "We found him in the field behind Lenny's farm. He was already gone."</p><p> </p><p>It would've been quite ironic if it wasn't so said, Marlene thought. It seemed like death and misfortune followed them wherever they went. She turned to Sam and found him watching the scene with a wary look in his eyes. Perhaps, he was thinking the same thing. Did he blame himself for that, too?</p><p> </p><p>The sheriff talked with Rory awhile, explaining what'd happened. Marlene and Sam only caught fragments of the conversation, but it was enough to raise suspicion. Dickson mentioned blood and something about bites. Marlene wasn't a seasoned hunter, but even she could put two and two together.</p><p> </p><p>Rory was holding up pretty well; stoic. But it was obvious how much strength it took for him not to break apart. He nodded, jaws clenched, then nodded again. The sheriff padded Rory on the shoulder and told him something, probably how he'd do anything to get to the bottom of it. A boy dead in the field in such a small town? Marley was no detective, but it sounded kind of fishy.</p><p> </p><p>"Is everything okay, sir?" Sam asked when the sheriff walked back to them, leaving Rory to grieve alone.</p><p> </p><p>"It ain't, son," he shook his head, dejected, "Charlie was only fifteen. I was at the boy's baptism, for Christ's sake," Dickson put his hat back on, "A town like this, you don't expect this stuff to happen."</p><p> </p><p>"What stuff?" asked Marley, completely forgetting about her apparent guise.</p><p> </p><p>"You think he was murdered?"</p><p> </p><p>Sheriff Dickson looked at Sam, then at Marlene, a little squint to his brown eyes, "You said you were just passin' through?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, we're on our way to Omaha. To investigate a case," Sam reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out an FBI badge. Marley's eyes went wide, but she quickly cleared her throat to mask her surprise, "Agent Broderick, this is Emily Livingston, an independent consultant for the Bureau. Could you tell us more about what happened?"</p><p> </p><p>The sheriff threw a sceptical look at the badge, then at Sam and Marlene. After a few moments of careful consideration, he gestured to the garage door, "Why don't we talk about this outside?"</p><p> </p><p>They followed the sheriff to his car, "Lenny, the local farmer, found Charlie's body in the field behind his house. White as parchment, no signs of struggle, just a couple of bite marks on his neck, that's it," Dickson said, "Look, it's a small town. Peaceful. Things like this happen, folks get scared. I know every bastard in the area, and I can tell you — we ain't got no killers here in Tyro."</p><p> </p><p>"Did you say he was exsanguinated?"</p><p> </p><p>Sheriff Dickson nodded gravely, "Not a drop left. What kinda sick person would do that?"</p><p> </p><p>"What was the cause of death?" Marley wondered.</p><p> </p><p>"We don't know yet. The coroner's still working on the autopsy report."</p><p> </p><p>"Could we take a look at the body?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's in Caney right now. A fifteen-minute ride," Dickson replied, "I can drive you there tomorrow."</p><p> </p><p>Sam nodded, "Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>"You got a place to stay?" the sheriff asked, looking at him and Marley.</p><p> </p><p>"Uh, Rory said something about pastor Wilkenson?" Marley trailed off, "He was going to take us there, but..."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yes. Yes, Wilkinson will have a room for you," Dickson nodded and pointed his head toward the car, "Come on, I'll give you a lift."</p><p> </p><p>Marlene would never have thought that she'd be willingly getting into a police car a week after being arrested. And yet, there she was in the backseat, behind the bars again.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you said you'd burned them," Marley whispered to Sam.</p><p> </p><p>The shadow of a smile crossed his face, "Not all of them."</p><p> </p><p>There was definitely something wrong with this town.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>hello there,</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>am I getting annoying with these updates yet??</strong>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>alright, so sam</strong> <strong>and marley just can't seem to catch a break.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>what do you think is going on in this creepy little town? Vampires? Hmmmm</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Also, Robby...my sweet summer child. You'll see more of him in the next chapter:)</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>THANK YOU LOADS AND LOADS FOR COMMENTING!</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>that's probably what gets these chapters out so fast, you guys inspire me!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>see ya soon,</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>xxx, marie</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 16 / The Good, The Bad and the Ugly</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>And I will tread down the people in mine anger, and make them drunk in my fury, and I will bring down their strength to the earth</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Isaiah 63:6</p><hr/><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean couldn't believe he'd just seen himself shoot a guy point-blank. Mercilessly, without a second thought. And no one'd done anything to stop him </span>
  <span class="s3">— hell, they hadn't even batted an eye. What kind of messed up world was that?</span>
</p><p class="p6">Dean's future self shoved him inside a shed an shut the door. His glare was murderous. That was kind of badass, actually, if he could say so himself.</p><p class="p6">"What the hell was that?" future Dean grumbled.</p><p class="p6">"<em>What the hell was that?</em> You just shot a guy in cold blood."</p><p class="p6">"We were in an open quarantine zone. Got ambushed by some Croats on the way out." Dean quirked a brow, asking to elaborate, "Croats. Croatoans. One of them infected Yeager."</p><p class="p6">"How do you know?"</p><p class="p6">"'Cause after a few years of this, <em>I know</em>. I started seeing symptoms about a half an hour ago. Wasn't gonna be long before he flipped. I didn't see the point in troubling a good man with bad news."</p><p class="p6">Dean scoffed, "<em>'Troubling a good man'? </em>You just blew him away in front of your own people. Don't you think that freaked them out a little bit?"</p><p class="p6">"It's 2014," future Dean told him, his face unsettlingly impassive, "Plugging some Croat, it's called common<em>place</em>. Trading words with my friggin' clone — <em>that</em> might have freaked them out a little."</p><p class="p6">Dean sighed and walked to the window, "All right, look—"</p><p class="p6">"No, <em>you</em> look." He turned back, throwing a glare at this future self, "This isn't your time. It's mine. You don't make the decisions. <em>I</em> do. So, when I say stay in, you stay in."</p><p class="p6">In any other situation Dean might've thrown fists with any bastard who told him what to do, even if it was him. But he was right — it wasn't Dean's world, he didn't call the shots. He'd probably do the same if some prick from the past came pissing in his sandbox.</p><p class="p6">Dean watched his future self walk to the kitchen counter and open a bottle of whiskey.</p><p class="p6">"All right, man. I'm sorry," he admitted, "Look, I — I'm not trying to mess you — me...<em>us</em> up here," <em>God</em>, that was freaking weird.</p><p class="p6">"I know," future Dean poured two glasses of whiskey.</p><p class="p6">"It's just been a really wacky weekend."</p><p class="p6">He put the drinks on the table, "Tell me about it."</p><p class="p6">Dean took a sip of the whiskey. Well, at least they had't fucked up alcohol in this time. "Hey, so, uh...Marlene's kid, Robby?"</p><p class="p6">"What about him?" future Dean asked gruffly.</p><p class="p6">"Well, nothing. Except he called me <em>'uncle Dean'</em>."</p><p class="p6">"Did he?"</p><p class="p6">Dean frowned, thinking about the kid's dimpled smile and his chestnut curls...wait a minute — "How old is he?"</p><p class="p6">"He's five."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1"><em>Me and Sam, we haven't talked in — hell, five years. </em>Dean went very still, realisation hitting him like a truck. His brother had a kid. Sam had a kid. With <em>Marlene</em>. And he'd died before he could even see him grow up. </span>
</p><p class="p8">"Did he know?" Dean asked gravely.</p><p class="p8">"No. He didn't." There was a prolonged moment of silence before future Dean spoke again, "Alright, enough of that melodramatic bullshit. We've got a mission."</p><p class="p8"><em>God, he was an asshole.</em> "And what is it?"</p><p class="p8">He set the glass on the table and pulled out a gun. <em>The</em> gun.</p><p class="p8">Dean's eyes winded, "The Colt?"</p><p class="p8">"The Colt," his future self replied with the shadow of a smirk.</p><p class="p8">"Wh — Where was it?"</p><p class="p8">"Everywhere. They've been moving it around. Took me five years, but...I finally got it," he put the gun back and picked up his glass, raising a toast, "And tonight — tonight, I'm gonna kill the devil."</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p9">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Pastor Wilkinson's house was perched atop a small hill just outside Tyro. It looked like one of those colonial farms that had grown rather abandoned over the years and failed to maintain the same splendour.The white paint on the wood had chipped, the soil unploughed and covered with dirty, burnt grass. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sheriff Dickson turned off the engine, "Here it is."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The noise must've alerted the Wilkinson's to the arrival of unexpected guests. A man in his late fifties walked out to the porch, a clerical collar peaking out from his black shirt </span>
  <span class="s3">— so, that had to be the pastor. </span>
</p><p class="p6">Dickson got out of the car. Marley and Sam followed after him. "Father Wilkinson," the sheriff greeted, taking off his hat.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">"Good evening, Sheriff Dickson</span>
  <span class="s1">," the old man greeted, "Who are your friends?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"That'd be agent Broderick and his partner Miss Livingston." Sam and Marlene smiled in unison when the pastor looked at them, "Their car broke down on the way to Ohio, brought it over to Rory's. They've decided to stay and help with the investigation."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Father Wilkinson's face grew despondent, "Ah, yes. Poor Charlie...it's a tragedy, what happened," he nodded gravely, "That's very kind of you to stay, agent Broderick, Miss Livingston. Is there any way I can help?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You got a spare room, Father?" Dickson asked. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"We'd be very grateful," Sam added. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The pastor gave them a warm smile, "Why yes. Yes, of course. I'd be happy to welcome you in my home."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you," said Marley, "We really appreciate it."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No need. It's the least I can do."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright, so that's settled" Sheriff Dickson walked back to his car and turned to Sam and Marley, "I will see you tomorrow, agent Broderick, Miss Livingston," he nodded at the pastor, "Father."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Won't you join us for dinner, sheriff?" Father Wilkinson asked. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"'Fraid I'll have to decline, Father. Thanks for the invitation," the sheriff donned his shiny hat and got into the cat. The old man saw him off with a wave until the police car disappeared behind the hill. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Pastor Wilkinson led Sam and Marlene into the house and closed the door. It was actually pretty nice inside: dark wooden tiles lining the floor and walls filled with icons, the smell of frankincense and something that Marlene unmistakably identified as cookies </span>
  <span class="s3">— she'd recognise the scent anywhere. There was a grand wooden crucifix in the hallway that made her jump a little — Marley'd never seen Jesus so close. </span>
</p><p class="p6">"Beautiful, isn't it?" Father Wilkinson asked, mistaking her shock for admiration.</p><p class="p6">She blushed a little, "Oh, <em>yes</em>. It's...magnificent."</p><p class="p6">"Father?" a gentle voice came from the living room. A girl followed after it, her big green eyes landing on Sam and Marlene, "Oh, hello." A few seconds later she was joined by two other green-eyed blondes — they all looked practically the same.</p><p class="p6">"Allow me to introduce my daughters," Father Wilkinson said, "This is Alexandra, Tiffany and Meghan. Girls, say hello to agent Broderick and his companion Miss Livingston. They are going to stay with us for a few days." The three sisters graced the guests with modest, welcoming smiles. "Alex, dear, why don't you show our guests to their rooms?"</p><p class="p6">"Of course, father," the girl nodded and flashed Sam and Marlene a gracious smile, "Follow me."</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Alex, the oldest one from the bunch, Marley suspected, led them to the second floor. The air was a bit stuffy there and had a strange smell to it. It wasn't surprising though, with the entire house being so old. It seemed Father Wilkinson wasn't much of a handyman. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Alex opened a door to one of the bedrooms, "Here's your room, Miss Livingston," she said, "And yours, agent Broderick, is just down the hall." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks," Marley told her.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam nodded, "Yes, thank you for allowing us to stay in your house." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're very welcome," Alex beamed, "Dinner will be ready soon. I hope you'll join us." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Of course," he assured her with a dimpled smile. Marley caught herself staring and instantly looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I'll let you settle in now." Alex went down to join her sisters, leaving Sam and Marlene to their own devices. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley walked inside the room and dropped her bag to the floor, "Well, I feel protected already," she noted sarcastically, looking at the myriad of icons, and plumped down on the bed, "<em>So</em>. What do we now? Was it a vampire?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam closed the door, "Probably, but...it's strange."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Why? Bites on the neck, body drained of blood? Sounds sucky to me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, but it's a small town," Sam said and walked over to the window. He turned to Marley, "If a vampire lived here, deaths like that would be a regular occurrence. The sheriff said that nothing like that'd happened before." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Could be someone new in town. Or...or just passing through? Did the deed, fled the scene." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam's brow furrowed in thought, "Yeah, possibly. We'll have to see the body to be certain." Marley blanched a little when he mentioned that. Sam frowned, "Assuming you're okay with that?..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene bobbed her head with much more enthusiasm than she was feeling, "Absolutely. Can't wait."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," Sam said slowly. He didn't seemed much convinced, "I'll see you at dinner."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah. I'll be there," Marley smiled. As soon as Sam left the room, the smile turned into a grimace of humiliation, "<em>'I'll be there'?</em> Jesus..." The icon of Christ the Saviour was looking down at her from the wall. Marlene narrowed her eyes at him, "I thought you weren't supposed to judge."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">God didn't reply.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p9">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p6">Dean watched little Robby and Castiel from afar. The angel —ahem, <em>former</em> angel — sat on a stack of storage boxes while some military guys loaded the others in the trucks. They were already preparing for the mission that Dean still knew very little about.</p><p class="p6">The kid hadn't lied when he'd said he didn't have any friends. Why else would he hang out with a junky fallen angel? Dean should really discuss that with Marlene. God, he couldn't believe he'd just thought that. Robby wasn't his nephew. Even if he was, technically. Whatever, he sure as hell wasn't his responsibility.</p><p class="p6">The kid was talking about something very animatedly, showing Castiel his rubber dinosaurs. The angel nodded, smiling, giving Robby his undivided attention. Dean squinted his eyes at the scene and walked up to them, against his better judgement.</p><p class="p6">"Uncle Dean!" Robby exclaimed excitedly, unbothered by Dean's grim, slightly stumped face. He turned to the angel, "Castiel, it's uncle Dean!"</p><p class="p6">Cass smiled at him, "Yes, it is, Robby. You came to play with us, Dean?"</p><p class="p6">Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel, "No. A word, Cass?" Castiel sighed and stood up from the pile of boxes, following Dean to the side while Robby kept playing with his dinosaurs. He made a strange roaring noise. Dean pursed his lips. "So...Robby's Sam's kid."</p><p class="p6">"Yes," Cass replied even though it wasn't really a question.</p><p class="p6">Dean shuffled restlessly, arms crossed over his chest, "And he and Marlene..."</p><p class="p6">"Should I really tell you how it works?"</p><p class="p6">Dean glared at the angel. He was really starting to miss the old, less smartass version of him, "What's my deal in all of this?"</p><p class="p6">"Your deal?" Castiel asked, perplexed.</p><p class="p6">"Not <em>mine</em>. His. The other me, the Private Ryan," Dean was getting tired from this crap, "Why does Marlene hate him? What did he do?"</p><p class="p6">"I think you need to ask <em>her </em>that."</p><p class="p6">"Well, I'm asking you," Dean said gruffly.</p><p class="p6">"Look, Dean," Cass stepped closer to him, "You and Marlene are not exactly best friends here. You did some crappy stuff, man, and it's not for me to tell. Just go and talk to her."</p><p class="p6">"Uncle Dean!" Robby called, beaming, "Come see my dinsars!" Dean could tell that the kid had a hard time spelling the word.</p><p class="p6">"He loves dinosaurs," Castiel told him.</p><p class="p6">"Of course he does," Dean muttered.</p><p class="p6">With a pointed look at Cass, he came over to Robby and crouched down to look at his toys. The boy began pointing to each of them and telling Dean their names and how all of them had died millions of years ago. Dean thought it made perfect sense that Sam's kid had memorised all those useless facts. He remembered how his did the same thing when they were little, stuck in motel rooms with their father gone for weeks. Sam would read whatever magazines they had at the front desk and then relay all of it to Dean, even though he couldn't be bothered to listen.</p><p class="p6">"So, Robby," Dean said, interrupting his fascinating lecture about velociraptors, "Do you know what happened to your dad?" Castiel gave Dean a pointed look.</p><p class="p6">Robby nodded, pitching two dinosaurs against each other, "Yes. Mommy told me."</p><p class="p6">"What'd she tell you?"</p><p class="p6">"That daddy died saving the world," he replied with a sweet lisp, "Mommy said he's in a better place now, like dinsars. Risa said that he's in Heaven because that's the bestest place ever but I know he's not in Heaven, that's just silly."</p><p class="p6">Dean frowned, "Why's that silly, kiddo?"</p><p class="p6">"Because angels are bad. Mommy says so," Robby replied airily, "<em>My</em> daddy became a dinsar and he's going to eat the devil."</p><p class="p6">Dean laughed. That's about right, "Your mommy told you that, too?"</p><p class="p6">"No," Robby shook his head innocently, "Daddy did."</p><p class="p6">Castiel and Dean both tensed, exchanging wary looks, "You talk to your dad?"</p><p class="p6">"Yes," the boy said, "He always comes to wish me good night."</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p9">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p13"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene wasn't used to family dinners. To dinners in general, really. It was always just her and her dad, who couldn't commit to sitting at a table for more than fifteen minutes. He had essays to grade, books to write, researches to do. People like that didn't waste time on food. Not on eating it and definitely not on cooking it.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">So Marley's idea of dinner was a microwaved version of whatever their housekeeper Sona left in the fridge before going home. Where she'd share a meal with her big, happy family. Marlene didn't quite know how to act with big, happy families. Which was probably why she was feeling so uncomfortable right now, looking at the plateful of food in front of her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The Wilkinsons sure didn't do things lightly. The table was packed with so much food, it was like Thanksgiving met Christmass, they hooked up and had a baby on Easter. Glancing at Sam, Marley was pretty sure he shared her bewilderment. But since none of them hadn't had much to eat all day, they decided not to count their blessings. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"This looks...amazing, Father Wilkinson," Marlene told him.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"My daughters are incredible cooks," the man said proudly, "I hear Meghan even made an apple pie for dessert." The girl smiled and lowered her eyes, the picture of modesty. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley and Sam took their forks to dig in, but stilled half-way through, noticing that no one was touching the food. Father Wilkinson stretched out his arms, "Let us say a prayer to thank the Lord for the gift he bestowed upon us."</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s4">It took everything in Marlene not to snort, and the effort hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam. His mouth twitched a little, and he cleared his throat to suppress the urge to smile. Marlene took his hand </span>— it was warm and soothing, coming in stark contrast with the hand of Alex. It was so cold, Marley felt the urge to pull it back. Her eyes caught something shiny on the girl's wrist — there was a beautiful bracelet wrapped around it, like a vine made of gleaming brass — the same one Tiffany and Meghan were wearing. It looked fascinating.</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s5">Everyone at the table closed their eyes, and the pastor began his prayer, "</span>
  <span class="s1">Our Father in Heaven, we give thanks for the pleasure of gathering together for this occasion. We give thanks for the pilgrims you have brought to our doorstep. For this food prepared by loving hands. For life, the freedom to enjoy it all, and all other blessings. As we partake of this food, we pray for health and strength to carry on and try to live as You would have us. This we ask in the name of Christ, Our Heavenly Father. Amen."</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"Amen," Meghan, Alex and Tiffany said in unison.</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"A-Amen," Sam and Marlene added hurriedly and opened their eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"So, Agent Broderick, Miss Livingston, would you tell us your names? I think it would save much time," Father Wilkinson joked heartily. His daughters laughed. </span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">Sam smiled sheepishly, "It's, uh, Matthew. Matthew Broderick."</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"Ah," the pastor nodded, "A good biblical name. And you, miss?"</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"I'm Emily."</span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"Well, it is a blessing to have you in our home, Matthew and Emily," the pastor took the cutlery and dug into his plate, "Please, do enjoy the food."</span>
</p><p class="p15"><span class="s6">Marlene didn't need to be told twice. God, she had to give it to the Wilkinson sisters </span>— the food was absolutely devine. She wished she could cook like that at their age, because the only thing Marlene could put together back then was a pack of Mac and Cheese. It turned out the girls were two years apart each, with Alex being the oldest at 20 — the woman of the family. Father Wilkinson'd told them that his wife Anna had passed away ten years ago, and his daughters and God had been the only light in his life ever since.</p><p class="p15">"Our father tells us you work for the FBI?" the youngest sister, Meghan, asked. </p><p class="p15">Sam nodded, "Yes."</p><p class="p15">"It must be so dangerous, your job," Tiffany spoke, her doe-like green eyes wide with concern.</p><p class="p15">"Uh...yeah, it can be, sometimes."</p><p class="p15">"And it brought you to our town?" asked Alex.</p><p class="p15">"We were just passing through, heading to Ohio," Marley answered, even though the question was very clearly directed at Sam. As all the attention at the table, it seemed, "Our car broke down in the middle of the road." </p><p class="p15">"I believe it was God's will," Father Wilkinson said, "He heard our prayers."</p><p class="p15">"God and his mysterious ways," Marley mumbled into her glass of lemonade. Damn, it was good.</p><p class="p15">Alex nodded, agreeing with her father, "Yes, it was awful kind of you to offer your assistance, agent Broderick."</p><p class="p15">"What a terrible accident," Tiffany mumbled, "Poor Charlie."</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned, "You believe it was an accident?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"We hope with all our hearts that it was," the pastor replied, "I can't bear to think about the evil that might dwell in our town otherwise." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Did you know Charlie well, Father?" Marley asked.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Father Wilkinson's face assumed a wistful expression, "I baptised the boy. Nice, God-fearing family. They visited church every Sunday," he sighed, "Little Charlie grew a bit troublesome in his teenage years. His mother, dear Liza, often asked me to pray for his soul since he had no regard for it. Sad," the pastor shook his head, "Very sad." </span>
</p><p class="p14">
  <span class="s1">"What do you mean by 'troublesome?'" Sam wondered. </span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">"Charlie and his friends were bad news," Meghan replied tentatively, blushing under Sam's attention. Marley suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, "They...they would steal liquor from old Lenny'sshed, then go into the forest and get drunk."</span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">Marlene frowned </span>
  <span class="s3">— </span>
  <span class="s1">Charlie's body was found in the field behind his farm..."Did Lenny know about it?"</span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">Alex scoffed, "Oh, he <em>gave</em> it to them."</span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Alexandra</em>," the pastor intoned reproachfully. </span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">Marley thought she noticed a scowl on her face when she lowered her eyes, "Sorry, father." </span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">Father Wilkinson put down his cutlery and padded his mouth with a cloth, "Whatever happened, we should all pray for Charlie and his family. May God rest his soul."</span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1"><em>If only God gave a shit</em>, Marlene thought. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Alex glaring at her father. </span>
</p><p class="p17"> </p><p class="p18">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p19"> </p><p class="p15">The Colt was lying on the table like a freaking centrepiece, Cass, Marlene, Dean, his asshole future version and its pissed-off booty call Risa gathered around it.</p><p class="p15">"So, that's it?" she said, highly unimpressed, "That's the Colt?"</p><p class="p15">The future Dean nodded, "If anything can kill Lucifer, this is it."</p><p class="p15">"Great. Have we got anything that can <em>find</em> Lucifer?"</p><p class="p15">He levelled her with a bored, slightly annoyed look, "Are you okay?"</p><p class="p15">"Oh, we were in, uh, Jane's cabin last night," Dean hurried to his own help, unbothered by Risa's murderous glare, "And, apparently, we and...Risa <em>have a connection</em>," he gave himself a meaningful look.</p><p class="p15">Marlene rolled her eyes and sighed — it didn't want to be in that room in the first place. Castiel giggled into his whiskey, and Dean 2.0 looked about done with his idiotic counterpart from the past.</p><p class="p15">"You want to shut up?" he growled.</p><p class="p15">Dean raised his hands in surrender. He looked over at Marley and frowned — she was just sitting there, doodling something in a journal, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.</p><p class="p15">"We don't have to <em>find</em> Lucifer. We know where he is." That made her look up. "The demon that we caught last week, he was one of the big guy's entourage. He knew."</p><p class="p15">Risa quirked a sceptical brow, arms crossed, "So, a demon tells you where Satan's gonna be, and you just...believe it?"</p><p class="p15">"Oh, trust me," Dean 2.0 smiled, extremely self-assured, "He wasn't lying."</p><p class="p15">"And you know this <em>how?</em>"</p><p class="p15">Everyone turned to Marlene who hadn't made a single sound the entire time. Future Dean stared at her, his face unreadable: was he angry? Annoyed? Dean couldn't tell. But it was obvious that Marley would take no bullshit from him, waiting for the answer with a raised brow.</p><p class="p15">"Our fearless leader, I'm afraid, is all too well schooled in the art of getting to the truth," Castiel droned.</p><p class="p15">"<em>Torture?</em>" Dean's brows shot up. He rose from his place and walked loser to the table, "Oh, so, we're — we're torturing again." The other Dean shot him a murderous look. "No, that's — that's good. <em>Classy</em>."</p><p class="p15">Castiel laughed and caught Dean 2.0 glaring at him, "What? I like past you." Marlene scoffed, earning yet another scowl.</p><p class="p15">Fed up with their antics, future Dean smacked a map on the table and cut to the chase, "Lucifer is here," he pointed to the circled district. Marley put away her journal and walked closer to get a better view. "Now. I know the block and I know the building."</p><p class="p15">She shot him a disbelieving look, "Have you <em>completely</em> lost your mind, Dean?"</p><p class="p15">"Oh, good," Castiel noted sarcastically, "It's right in the middle of a hot zone."</p><p class="p15">"Crawling with Croats, yeah," Dean 2.0 said casually, looking at Marlene, "You saying my plan is reckless?"</p><p class="p15">"It's a <em>suicide mission</em>."</p><p class="p15">"Are you saying we, uh, walk in straight up the driveway, past all the demons and the Croats, and we shoot the devil?" Cass asked, his voice drenched in sarcasm.</p><p class="p15">All of which had gone right past Dean's ears, "Yes."</p><p class="p15">Marley let our a derisive little laugh, stepping away from him, "Unbe<em>lievable</em>."</p><p class="p15">"Okay," Castiel said thoughtfully "If you don't like, uh, '<em>reckless</em>', I could use..." he shrugged, "'Insouciant', maybe?"</p><p class="p15">"Are you coming?" was all Dean had to ask.</p><p class="p15">Cass sighed, "Of course. But why is he?" he looked back at past Dean, "I mean, he's you five years ago. If something happens to him, you're gone, right?"</p><p class="p15">Dean 2.0 folded the map, "He's coming," he said, leaving no room for arguments.</p><p class="p15">"O-kay," Castiel said slowly and rose from his seat, "Well, uh. I'll get the grunts moving." Marley followed him and Risa out of the shed.</p><p class="p15">"Marlene?" future Dean called.</p><p class="p15">She stopped and looked back at him, extremely reluctant, "What?"</p><p class="p15">"Take him somewhere safe. In case this whole thing blows up — "</p><p class="p15">Marley's impassive face grew ferocious "Are we done here?" she asked cooly.</p><p class="p15">Dean sighed, "Marlene..."</p><p class="p15">"We're done here," she muttered and left the shad, shutting the door behind her.</p><p class="p19"> </p><p class="p18">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p17"> </p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">While the entire house was peacefully dream-hopping, Marlene stayed vigilant. She hoped to chase away the sleep with the sheer force of her stubbornness, and it worked. For the first couple of hours. Marley thought about her conversation with Sam and his annoying refusal to have an argument. God, she wanted to grab Sam by his enormously wide shoulders and shake some sense into his head. What an absolute idiot. Speaking of his head and his face </span>
  <span class="s3">— he seemed to have charmed the pastor's daughters. Although Sam was too oblivious to his own good looks sometimes. Marley suspected that if Dean'd been here, he wouldn't lose any time. </span>
  <span class="s1">Time...time...</span>
</p><p class="p16">
  <span class="s1">Marlene blinked away the drowsiness. How late was it? She really couldn't tell. There's no clock in the room, only icons upon icons upon a crucifix. It's like Marley was floating in time and beyond it, or so thought her sleep-deprived brain. She felt betrayed by her own body </span>
  <span class="s3">— what about all the sleepless nights they'd shared, stuck in the library? She really thought they'd meant something.</span>
</p><p class="p15"><em>Damnit</em>.</p><p class="p15">Marlene let out a frustrated growl and rolled to the other side where the pillow was much colder. At least <em>that</em> was nice. Very nice, actually. <em>No</em>, she couldn't get comfortable. Because once she got comfortable, she'd inevitably close her eyes and...</p><p class="p15">...what was that? Nuh-uh, she couldn't sleep. He'd be there —</p><p class="p15">— but maybe just a moment? A few minutes, tops...</p><p class="p15">Marley could feel her consciousness slipping into oblivion, her exhausted body finally relaxing into the soft mattress and crispy linen that smelled of lavender. She hugged the pillow and let out a blissful sigh, all troubles of the past week forgotten.</p><p class="p15">Marlene thought she heard a sound, but it was too far away. Oh, whatever. A rustling, a hiss...her skin tingled, hairs standing on end. Only Marlene couldn't understand whether she was dreaming or not. Was there someone in the room? —</p><p class="p15">"<em>Awe!</em>" she was jolted awake by the sudden pain in the neck. <em>What the hell? </em></p><p class="p15">Marlene lifted a hand to the burning skin and felt something sticky on her fingers — it was blood. With a deep frown and her heart thumping with worry, she sprung from the bed and hurried to a little mirror on the wall. Marley collected her tangled hair and threw it over the shoulder. And when her eyes fell on her neck, she stilled.</p><p class="p15">Through the blood, Marlene could see two punctures.</p><p class="p15">Red, angry bite marks in her skin.</p><p class="p15"> </p><p>
  <strong>Hey guys! </strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>Soooo any theories? Still think it's a vampire?</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>And yes, Robby is Sam's son. And his full name is Robert...ring any bells?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Thank you for commenting! It sure keeps me young and inspired! Chapter 17 is almost finished, so I guess I'll see you soon ;) </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>xxx, marie</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Shining</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 17 / The Shining</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Homer, The Iliad</p><hr/><p class="p6">Marlene didn't remember how she fell asleep after that. Perhaps, her brain was so exhausted from overthinking that it just shut itself down. Whatever the reason, she'd at least managed to get in three hours of sleep with no Devils lurking around and no bedbugs eating her alive.</p><p class="p6">That is to say, Marley still woke up with a raging headache and spent a good thirty minuted just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Not so long ago she was sleeping in her car and gulping down demon blood. Now she was in a small town in Kansas, staying at a pastor's house and investigating a murder. Life sure threw curveballs at you.</p><p class="p6">Marlene had to drag herself out of bed when she heard cooking noises coming from downstairs. Sam was probably awake too, had been for awhile with his rigid schedule. He'd probably already had his 10 mile run and bathed in the blue lagoon of perfection.</p><p class="p6">She pulled on her black jeans, a white top topped with a thin cardigan with tiny sunflowers embroidered on it, and headed downstairs. Only when Marley opened the door, she stepped on something crunchy, like husk. Brows furrowed, she crouched down to pick it up — it was translucent and frail, with a familiar pattern of scales. Was that snake skin?</p><p class="p6">Frown still etched on her troubled face, Marlene came down to the kitchen. It was a homey, sunlit room with a small island covered with plates of pancakes, waffles and freshly made bacon. Things were certainly looking up. Sam was standing by the sink with a steaming mug of coffee. When he noticed Marley, he sent her a half-smile and took a sip. She quirked a brow at his fancy suit.</p><p class="p6">"Good morning, Emily," Tiffany greeted her with a bright grin, "Please help yourself to breakfast." Marlene thanked her and poured herself a big cup of coffee — ah, the devine smell of your pulse skyrocketing. She glanced at Sam and frowned when she saw him scratching his neck, "Did you sleep well?"</p><p class="p6">"Best sleep I've had in years," Marley answered distractedly, watching him. Sam loosened his tie a little, "Hey, do you guys get a lot of snakes around these parts?"</p><p class="p6">"Oh, yes. Too many," Tiffany put a plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen island, "Why? Did you see one?"</p><p class="p6">"Uh...no," Marlene replied. Sam was getting frustrated, "No, I was just wondering."</p><p class="p6">"Don't you worry, Emily. They're all pretty harmless," the girl assured her, "Could you watch the pie in the oven? It's for Meghan's school fair. She's going to kill me if I burn it and I gotta get some more flour from the pantry."</p><p class="p6">"No problem," Marley smiled.</p><p class="p6">"The sheriff called," Sam told her when Tiffany left, still fumbling with his collar, "Said he'd be here soon. Are you sure you're up for it, Marlene?"</p><p class="p6">With a very determined look on her face that threw Sam into absolute confusion, Marley stormed up to him, grabbed him by the collar and pulled it down.</p><p class="p6">"What are you doing?"</p><p class="p6">"How did you get these?" Marley breathed.</p><p class="p6">"Get <em>what?</em>"</p><p class="p6">Frustrated, she pushed her hair away and showed him the bites, "<em>This.</em>"</p><p class="p6">Sam's brows furrowed. Wary, he brought a hand to his neck and found two punctures in it, "What the hell is this?"</p><p class="p6">"I got bitten last night, thought it was bedbugs or something. But then I found snake skin by my door," Marlene whispered and squinted her eyes at him, "How could you not feel that?"</p><p class="p6">Sam sighed, "I'm a heavy sleeper — "</p><p class="p6">Marley elbowed him in the ribs when Tiffany returned with a pack of flour. Sam cut her an annoyed look and then turned to the girl. She was like walking sunshine, with her bright smile and golden hair.</p><p class="p6">"Guys, Sheriff Dickson's here for you," Tiffany told them, "He said he'd be waiting in the car."</p><p class="p6">"Thank you, Tiffany," Sam nodded and looked at Marlene, "Let's go see the body."</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">The coroner — doctor Holloway, as the sheriff had introduced her — led them into the morgue. Marlene was the last to come in, shaking like a leaf from the cold and the paralysing fear. There was a single body lying on the autopsy table, under a cover.</p><p class="p6">"Charlie McCormack, fifteen years old," the coroner recited as they walked inside, "He's been dead for over 36 hours. Suffered a severe blood loss. With no physical injuries," she gave them a pointed look to stress the peculiarity of that fact.</p><p class="p6">"Could you show us the body, doc?" Dickson asked. Marlene shivered, heart thumping in her chest.</p><p class="p6">"Be my guest," the woman lifted the cover.</p><p class="p6">Charlie was a scrawny young boy who hadn't yet grown into his gangly frame. And he would never have the chance to anymore. His body was incredibly pale, almost grey, lifeless; skin as thin as parchment and patchy. Marley shuddered when she saw his peaceful face — you'd think he was just sleeping if it weren't for the blue of his lips.</p><p class="p6">She could feel Sam's concerned eyes on her and whispered a hurried "I'm fine" before walking closer to the body.</p><p class="p6">"You said something about bite marks?" Sam asked.</p><p class="p6">"Yes, on his neck," doctor Holloway gently turned Charlie's head to the side, "Here they are."</p><p class="p6">Marlene stilled when she saw them. Two small punctures in the boy's pale skin. Identical to her and...She looked at Sam and his eyes were filled with the same suspicion. Whatever'd got to Charlie, it hadn't left the town.</p><p class="p6">"So what was the cause of death? Blood loss?" he asked.</p><p class="p6">"That's what we thought at first. But then we ran some tests and found traces of snake venom in his system," doctor Holloway picked up a vial from a centrifuge, filled with opaque liquid. Marley and Sam exchanged wary looks.</p><p class="p6">"<em>Snake venom?</em>" Sheriff Dickson asked, incredulous.</p><p class="p6">"Yes. We stil can't figure out which one it was, Kentucky is swarmed with them. But it was definitely a snake."</p><p class="p6">"But where'd all the blood go?" Dickson wondered, looking at Sam and Marley.</p><p class="p6">"Now that's <em>your</em> job to figure out, isn't it?" Doctor Holloway covered Charlie's body again, "But if I didn't know better, I'd say the boy died from a snake bite."</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">Dean found Marlene by the loading trucks. She was standing there alone, looking at something in the distance. When he followed her eyes, he saw Robby talking with Chuck, no doubt boring him with dinosaur trivia. Marley watched them with a wistful half-smile, her eyes filled with the sorrow that hadn't been there four years ago.</p><p class="p6">Dean was having a hard time remembering Marlene from his time. The annoying, spoiled know-it-all who'd been thrown into the middle of the apocalypse and didn't even know how to shoot a gun. No, <em>this</em> Marley had seen life for what it's worth — the good and the bad. Mostly bad, as of the last six years. She was armed to the teeth, a rifle thrown over her shoulder and two handguns resting in a holster on her thigh — she was dressed to fight.</p><p class="p6">"Hey," Dean walked over to her. She spared him a quick glance and turned her attention back to Robby, "I thought you weren't coming."</p><p class="p6">"I just wanted to piss you off. The other you. God, is this really happening?" Marlene shook her head in disbelief. Robby’s laughter rang though the air that smelled of metal and gunpowder. She smiled.</p><p class="p6">"He...he’s great, Marlene."</p><p class="p6">"He is, isn't he?" she whispered, "Sometimes I look at him and...and all I see is Sam. His hair, his dimples, his ridiculous obsession with dinosaurs," Marley and Dean both laughed.</p><p class="p6">"Yeah, he sure knows a lot of useless stuff about them."</p><p class="p6">"Oh, he knows a lot of useless stuff about <em>everything</em>. Don't get him started on cars, he'd talk your head off."</p><p class="p6">Dean's brows shot up, "The kid's into cars? Now <em>that's</em> my nephew," he smiled proudly.</p><p class="p6">Marlene's excitement dimmed, "Yeah, he, uh...he really wanted to impress you."</p><p class="p6">"What do you mean?"</p><p class="p6">"Look — " she turned to him, arms crossed over her chest, "You might've noticed we're not... on the best terms here, you and I."</p><p class="p6">Dean scoffed, "Hell yeah, I noticed."</p><p class="p6">"Well, that's because you're a dick."</p><p class="p6">"I've noticed that too," he muttered.</p><p class="p6">"And not just to your people, but to your <em>family,</em>" Marley breathed a heavy sigh, "Dean, you can't even look at Robby. He's a kid who grew up without a father — you of all people should be able to understand that." Dean felt like she wasn't addressing <em>him</em> anymore, but decided to just do with it. It looked like she'd been wanting to say that for a long time, "He needs you, he <em>loves</em> you. And you won't event <em>talk</em> to him."</p><p class="p6">"Maybe...maybe he's just hurting?" he tried to reason, "I mean, with a mini Sam running around, must've been pretty rough for him."</p><p class="p6">"Did I mention he suggested using my son as a trap for Lucifer?”</p><p class="p6">Dean's brows shot up, "Alright, I'm a dick."</p><p class="p6">Marlene shook her head and pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, "Not <em>yet</em> you're not" she said, "At least, not entirely, from what I remember."</p><p class="p6">From what <em>Dean</em> remembered, he had been kind of a dick to her. Even after everything Marley'd done for them, everything she'd sacrificed, he didn't trust her. Just because her father was a piece of shit, he painted her with the same brush. Dean should've known, better than anyone, that you're not defined by your parents' sins. And here Marlene was, raising his nephew alone in a post-apocalyptic hellhole and doing a freaking incredible job at it.</p><p class="p6">"Hey, can I ask you something?"</p><p class="p6">Marley frowned at his suddenly serious tone, "Alright."</p><p class="p6">"Robby said something. Something about Sam coming to wish him good night?" Dean noticed a slight change in her expression, "What'd he mean? Does he...is he like you? Like Sam? With some kind of weird mojo or — "</p><p class="p6">"No, no he's just..." Marley laughed, "He's a kid, Dean. He imagines things. Did he tell you about Sam being a dinosaur who'd swallow the Devil and save the world?"</p><p class="p6">Dean squinted his eyes slightly, not entirely buying it, but chose not to push further. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry." It wasn't his time — not his problem.</p><p class="p6">"Dean — "</p><p class="p6">"Mommy!" Robby cried out, "Mommy!"</p><p class="p6">"I'll be there in a moment, sweetheart! Sorry," she said to Dean, "Sometimes I forget he's only five. With everything that's been happening...he had to grow up really fast. But he's still just a kid."</p><p class="p6">"Yeah, Sam was like that too," Dean told her. Marlene's lower lip began to tremble, "He would've loved that kid, Marley."</p><p class="p6">She started at the nickname. Had he never called her that before?</p><p class="p6">"Dean, please — just <em>please</em>, don't become...<em>him</em>," Marlene said after a beat of silence. Dean's brows twitched together. "I...hell, I doubt my words will change anything, but I gotta try, right?" her lips stretched into a rueful smile,.</p><p class="p6">"Mommy!" Robby yelled again.</p><p class="p6">"I'm coming!" Marley yelled back, "I'm gonna say it and you have to listen, Dean Winchester, for once in your goddamn life. It didn't begin because Sam said 'yes' to Lucifer. Not really. It began much earlier," she gave him a stern look, "When <em>you</em> said 'no' to Sam." </p><p class="p6">With that, Marley left to get Robby who was close to throwing a tantrum of apocalyptic proportions. <em>Winchester men</em>. "Hey, is everything okay, buddy?" she crouched down and kissed him on his chubby cheek.</p><p class="p6">"Are you leaving to save daddy?" Robby asked timidly.</p><p class="p6">Marlene's eyes filled with tears — she was barely keeping it together at it was, "Yes, sweetheart, I'm going to save daddy," she whispered and enveloped Robby in a long hug. It could very well be the last. Marley pulled away and looked straight into his deep hazel eyes, "You're in charge of the camp now, alright?" Robby gave a dutiful nod, "Now take your dinosaurs and go back to uncle Chuck, yeah? I think he's really scared and needs your help."</p><p class="p6">"Okay," Robby said sweetly, "Love you, mommy."</p><p class="p6">"Love you, too, tweedle," Marley sobbed and sprung up to her feet. She didn't want him to see her cry. Vision blurred by the tears, she headed to one of the vehicles, wiping them from her face. It was the right thing to do. If she could just talk to him —</p><p class="p6">"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean advanced on Marlene, his eyes throwing daggers, "I told you not to come."</p><p class="p6">"And I heard you," Marley retorted, "Get out of my way."</p><p class="p6">"You're not coming."</p><p class="p6">"Like hell I'm not," she tried to push past him, but Dean wouldn't budge, "I <em>have</em> to see him. You can't stop me."</p><p class="p6">"Marlene, think about Robby — "</p><p class="p6">She scowled, "Don't you <em>dare</em> go there, Dean Winchester, or I swear to God, I'm going to kill you myself."</p><p class="p6">"And how are you gonna do that, huh?" he sneered, "You've got nothing anymore."</p><p class="p9">
  <span class="s3">Stubborn tears prickled her eyes again, </span>
  <span class="s1">"He's still there, Dean. I <em>know</em> he is," Marley whispered pleadingly.</span>
</p><p class="p9">
  <span class="s1">Dean sucked in an annoyed breath, "He is <em>gone</em>, Marlene."</span>
</p><p class="p9">
  <span class="s1">She looked him straight in the eye, lip curling in contempt, "So are <em>you</em>." Marley pushed him away and got into one of the trucks.</span>
</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p10"> </p><p class="p6">Marlene and Sam walked up the porch steps of a small, ramshackle house that belong to the McCormack's. Marley couldn't imagine what it must've been like for them — losing a fifteen-year-old son in such a gruesome way.</p><p class="p6">Sam knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting for it to open. Marlene realised that it was the first time she actually saw Sam in action. That's what he and Dean did — dressed in cheap suits and pretended to be someone they weren't to do what had to be done. And if Marlene was feeling dreadful unease at the prospect of talking to the boy's parents, for Sam it was a common occurrence. Just rinse and repeat. How many dead bodies had he seen? When had he first witnessed death?</p><p class="p6">A moment later, Rory opened the door, frowning at the sight of his clients, "What are you two doing here?" he asked, nonplussed.</p><p class="p6">"Mister Cormack, I'm agent Broderick, this is my consultant Miss Livingston." Sam showed him the badge, "We're with the FBI. I think Sheriff Dickson mentioned us joining your son's case?"</p><p class="p6">The man stared at Sam and Marlene in quiet confusion, but then opened the door wider and stepped back to let them inside the house. It was small, yet incredibly cosy — it was a home filled with bright memories and laughter. That was now swallowed by sorrow and quiet. When Rory led them into the living room, the first thing Marley noticed was the photos displayed on the mantleshelf. They were all of Charlie.</p><p class="p6">"Liza!" Rory hollered, "The FBI are here! Sorry," he said to Sam and Marlene, "She's...she hasn't been..."</p><p class="p6">Marley gave him a reassuring smile, "We understand, Mr McCormack."</p><p class="p6">A small, withered woman walked into the living room then, a slight limp to her step. When she raised her big, sunken eyes, Marlene started. Liza's lip was split, one of her eyes sporting a purple bruise that looked stark against her pale skin, and there were stitches on her forehead. All of it looked pretty recent.</p><p class="p6">"Thank you for agreeing to talk to us," Sam told Rory and Liza. Mrs McCormack nodded wanly, and her husband helped her into an armchair. Marlene and Sam sat on the couch. "Mr and Mrs Cormack, could you tell us about the day leading up to Charlie's passing? Anything...strange? Out of the ordinary?"</p><p class="p6">Rory glanced at his wife. She was looking at the mantlepiece, "He left for school that mornin', like any other day. Liza got a call from the principal around noon, saying that he hadn't been in any of his classes. We tried callin' him but...he wouldn't pick up him damn phone. See, our Charlie...he — he was a good boy. He was," the man said, voice thick with emotion, "It's what teenagers do, ain't it? Cookin' up trouble, playin' hooky. We thought it was normal, ya know? He was always like that. Too big for this damn town."</p><p class="p6">Liza's face crumpled as a suppressed sob wrecked her frail body, "I p-prayed for him...every n-night I p-prayed for him..." Rory wrapped an arm around her. Marley turned to Sam and gave him a meaningful look. He frowned in puzzlement. Marlene let out a sigh and very discretely pointed to Liza's face.</p><p class="p6">"Uh, Mrs McCormack..." Sam said hesitantly, "How did you get those injuries?"</p><p class="p6">Liza and her husband exchanged looks, a silence conversation taking place between the grieving parents. Rory took his wife's hand and squeezed it tightly, giving her a firm nod.</p><p class="p6">"As my husband said...we hadn't seen Charlie all day," she all but whispered in a broken, trembling voice, "Later that evening, I was fixing up dinner for when he finally came home, Rory was in the garage. Charlie, he — " Liza covered her mouth to suppress a sob.</p><p class="p6">"It's alright, Mrs McCormack," Marlene told her gently, "take your time."</p><p class="p6">"You can tell them, honey," Rory whispered.</p><p class="p6">The woman let out a shaky breath, "It was around midnight when he...he stormed into the house and ran up straight to his room without a word. I thought — I thought he had been drinking with his friends again, and I went upstairs to take to him," she looked at Sam and Marley, "But he wasn't...he — we had a fight — oh Lord," Liza started crying, "I can't, Rory, I can't..."</p><p class="p6">"We understand how difficult this all must be for you," Sam said, "But every piece of information could help us find whoever killed your son." Or <em>what</em>ever.</p><p class="p6">Holding his wife's shaking body, Rory looked at Marlene and Sam, sorrow morphing into anger at the mention of his son's killer, "She got all of it from Charlie," he told them.</p><p class="p6">Sam frowned in bewilderment, "What do you mean?"</p><p class="p6">"I mean he pushed his momma down the stairs and ran off," Rory said gruffly, "And we never saw him again."</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">Sam's eyes were glued to the computer screen as he scrolled through a website on snake lore. It was the only lead they had so far — a mysterious creature who poisoned the victim with its venom and them...suck out their blood. Sam had never encountered anything like that before and neither had his father — he hadn't found any clues in John's journal.</p><p class="p6">Marlene was idly playing with a straw in her glass, humming a catchy tune that would get stuck in Sam's head for the entire day. He glanced up at her, then back at the screen, then at Marley again, his right leg shaking in annoyance. Finally, Sam breathed a heavy sigh, "Marlene?"</p><p class="p6">"Yes?"</p><p class="p6">"Can you stop singing?"</p><p class="p6">"Sure thing," she grinned and dropped the straw, "So, did you find anything?"</p><p class="p6">"No," Sam rubbed his face in frustration, "Nothing. I found a couple of maybe's but they use venom to paralyse their victims. Here...here it's like a ticking bomb that slowly drives you mad. Charlie got bitten and almost killed his mother."</p><p class="p6">"Yeah, but he was a troubled kid. It could've been an accident," Marley pointed out, "But if you're right...it means it's affecting us the same way," she narrowed her eyes at Sam, "Do you feel crazy yet?"</p><p class="p6">"Not <em>yet</em>. But we still don't know how long it takes for the venom to kick in."</p><p class="p6">"Charlie's bite looked pretty recent," Marley said, shivering from the memory, "There was still blood in the punctures."</p><p class="p6">Sam sighed and shut his laptop, "Well, then we have to act quickly — "</p><p class="p6">The sound of glass hitting a wall thundered through the small diner, "Stick that stake up your ass, Billy!" a waitress yelled and hurled another plate at the manager, "Fuck you, you piece of shit!"</p><p class="p6">She snatched two plates from the cooking station and headed to...oh, wonderful. Marley and Sam exchanged equally wary glances and then smiled at the waitress. </p><p class="p6">"Your salad," she all but dropped the plate on the table. A little cherry tomato rolled away. Marley glanced at Sam and found him staring at the girl's...cleavage? <em>Seriously?</em> "Your waffles," the mountain of double whipped cream shuddered, "Bon appetite," the waitress sneered.</p><p class="p6">"Wait!" Sam called. Marlene gaped at him. Was he for real?</p><p class="p6">The girl turned back, "<em>What?</em>"</p><p class="p6">"How did you get that bite?" Sam pointed to her neck. Well, that explained it. Marley tried to discretely squint at it — sure enough, there were two little punctures.</p><p class="p6">The waitress narrowed her eyes at him, "Wouldn't you like to find out, you perv!" Sam blushed much to Marlene's amusement, "Shut up and eat your goddamn food, or I'll <em>bite</em> your ass, you hear me?" With that, she walked away from the table to terrorise other customers.</p><p class="p6">"<em>Very</em> smooth, Sam," Marley drawled sarcastically, "Now you gotta tip her well or she'll deliver on her promise." Sam gave her a pointed look. Marlene raised her hands in surrender.</p><p class="p6">"Did you see it? The bite?"</p><p class="p6">She nodded, "Yeah. Seems like our little monster decided to stay here awhile."</p><p class="p6">"I'm gonna call Bobby. Maybe he'll find something," Sam stood up, "I'll be right back."</p><p class="p6">Marley watched him from the window. He was pacing near the parking lot, the same troubled expression on his face. Why had he left the diner? Couldn't he just talk here? Marley's brows furrowed at the thought. What were they talking about? Her? <em>He's probably telling Bobby about me</em>. What would Dean do if he found out?<em> He'd think I'm a freak</em>. No, Sam would never do that. They were just talking about the case. <em>Were they?</em></p><p class="p6">Sam hung up the phone and walked back to the diner. He slid into the booth, "Bobby said he'd take a look, asks around."</p><p class="p6">"That's great," Marley droned, rolling a piece of strawberry on her plate.</p><p class="p6">Sam shot her a concerned look, "Is everything okay?"</p><p class="p6">"Yes," she said, suddenly cheerful, "Yes, everything's peachy. Eat your salad, or it's gonna get cold."</p><p class="p6">Sam rolled his eyes, two dimples appearing on his face, and dug in.</p><p class="p6"><em>He's lying</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Maiden, Mother, Crone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 18 / Maiden, Mother, Crone </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Pour everything out for the blood you have shed, you're wasting your time in appeasing the dead.</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s3">" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Aeschylus "The Orestia"</p><hr/><p class="p5">The part of town they were travelling through was completely deserted. No humans, no Croats, nothing — it almost seemed <em>too</em> quiet, Dean thought. Nothing but the sound of angry steps and an occasional can being tossed away. It was just him, his psychotic alter ego, Marlene, Cas, Risa, and a couple of guys from the camp.</p><p class="p5">Marlene was trudging behind, away from the rest of the group. But Dean knew that there was one person in particular she was avoiding. He slowed his step and waited for everyone else to walk ahead, "So, Mary-Kate over there isn't wild about you being here."</p><p class="p5">Marley's mouth twitched, "I think he's more of an Ashley. And I don't give a crap," she gripped her rifle tighter, eyes scanning the upper levels of the abandoned buildings.</p><p class="p5">"Cas said you rarely go on missions," Dean pointed out.</p><p class="p5">"I'm surprised he could tell seeing as he was stoned for all of them."</p><p class="p5">"Still, it's — "</p><p class="p5">Marley aimed her rifle and pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation. A dead Croat fell from a window. Dean gaped at her, "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"</p><p class="p5">"Bobby taught me," Marlene said quietly after a beat of silence, "He was the only one who had the patience," she gave him a side-eye and kept walking.</p><p class="p5">"Hey — what happened to him? I've been to the house, found the wheelchair..."</p><p class="p5">"He, uh...he died. Pretty early on, about three years ago."</p><p class="p5">"What happened?"</p><p class="p5">"What always happens: Croats, a horde of them," Marley replied darkly, "I was there. Robby and I both," Dean glanced over at her, "Bobby held them back so we could get away."</p><p class="p5">That was an honorable death. A way to go worthy of a man like Bobby Singer — giving his life to protect a girl and her little son. Sacrificing himself. <em>You old grump</em>, Dean shook his head with a rueful smirk. He'd be sure to give the old man a hug when he returned.</p><p class="p5">"You came because of Sam, didn't you?"</p><p class="p5">Marley's step became angrier, "Sam's dead."</p><p class="p5">"<em>You</em> don't think so."</p><p class="p5">She cut Dean a stern look, "That's because I'm an idiot. If I weren't, I would be with my son right now."</p><p class="p5">"Believing in something doesn't make you an <em>idiot</em>, " he told Marley and then added upon further consideration, "Unless it's something really stupid. But this? This — actually, this might be kind of stupid."</p><p class="p5">"Gee, thanks — "</p><p class="p5">"— But it's also <em>baddas</em>," Dean turned to her. She seemed a little taken aback, "Look, that's the way I see it. Everyone's given up on Sam. Hell, even his own brother thinks he's a lost cause," he said grimly, "But <em>you</em> —you still believe he can be saved."</p><p class="p5">Marley stayed silent for a moment, failing to find the right words, "Wow, chill, Winchester," she finally said, mouth curved into a small smile, "Or I might think you actually like me."</p><p class="p5">The group stopped in front of a wire fence gate surrounding a tall brick building. "<em>Jackson County Sanitarium</em>" said the rusty plate. "Get down," future Dean commanded and took out a pair of binoculars, "There. <span class="s3">Second-floor window. We go in there."</span></p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You sure about this?" Risa asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">There was a slight pause before he replied, "They'll never see us coming." No one seemed overly reassured by it. "<em>Trust me</em>." Dean narrowed his eyes at his future self. Something wasn't right, "Now, weapons check. We're on the move in five."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, uh, <em>me</em>," Dean called, "Can I talk to you for a sec?" His asshole twin from the future stood up and very reluctantly followed Dean to the side, "Tell me what's going on."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Future Dean frowned, "What?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I know you. You're lying to these people and to me."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Is that so?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," Dean told him, "See, I know your lying expressions. I've seen them in the mirror. Now, there's something you're not telling us."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean 2.0 insisted innocently. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, really? Well, I don't seem to be the only member of your posse with some questions. So, uh, maybe I'll just take my doubts over to them," Dean moved back to the group and that was when the other cracked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait," he blocked his path.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean stopped, annoyed, "What?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Take a look around you, man," his future self whispered, "This place should be white-hot with Croats. Where are they?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean knew something was off about that. The city should've been swarming with those bastards, but the streets were empty, almost as though... "They cleared a path for us," he realised, "Which means that this is —"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"— a trap," the ghost of 2014 said plainly, "Exactly."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean frowned, "Well, then we can't go through the front."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, we're not. <em>They</em> are," his future self glanced at the group, "They're the decoys. You and me, we're going in through the back."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>That son of a bitch...</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You mean you're gonna feed your friends into a meat grinder?" Dean looked at him in disbelief,"Cas, too? <em>Marlene</em>? You want to use their deaths as a diversion?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I told her not to come," future Dean looked away, "She didn't listen."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean narrowed his eyes at him, "Oh, man, something is broken in you," he shook his head, disappointed. How could he have become...<em>that?</em> Soulless, selfish piece of shit who didn't give a rat's ass about anything but the mission. Even his own family, "You're making decisions that I would never make. I wouldn't sacrifice my friends."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You're right," his future self said cooly, face unwavering, "You wouldn't. It's one of the main reasons we're in this mess, actually."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean glared at him, "These people <em>count</em> on you. They <em>trust</em> you."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"They trust me to <em>kill</em> the devil and to <em>save</em> the world. And that's <em>exactly</em> what I'm gonna do."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No," Dean challenged, "Not like this, you're not. I'm not gonna let you."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The other one quirked a brow, "Oh, really?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah — "</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The last thing Dean saw was a fist going straight for his face. </span>
</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s4">Another body was discovered by a highschool student that morning, floating face down in the community pool. Kayleigh Tinkers, seventeen years old,</span>
  <span class="s1"> bites on the neck, blood drained, traces of snake venom in her system — everything was exactly the same. Only when the police came over to her house to deliver the sad news to the parents, they found Mr and Mrs Tinkers murdered in their bed. The officials decided it was a triple homicide committed by the same person who'd killed Charlie. But Marlene and Sam knew that they would find no venom in the blood of Kayleigh's parents. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Because <em>she</em> was the one who'd murdered them, just like Charlie had tried to kill his mother that night. The only question was why those teenagers had been driven to attack their parents? It obviously had something to do with the venom, but there was no clear pattern. If the creature was targeting teenagers with a sick vendetta against their families, then why bite Marlene and Sam? It didn't make any sense. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley's brows were furrowed into a deep frown while she was going through yet another useless website. She'd stayed behind and do some research while Sam and Sheriff Dickson were in Caney to see Kayleigh's body. And since Marley still hadn't completely recovered from the last excursion, she'd decided to pass and be of use in Tyro, instead.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">But so far her research had been nothing but <em>useless</em>. Apparently, there were no monsters who made you want to kill your parents — shocker. Marlene made a mental note to clear the browser history after she's done.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Yes?" she answered when her phone rang.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"How's the research going?" Sam asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, it's...going. What about you? Found anything interesting?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Actually, that's why I'm calling. Any chance you studied Ancient Greek?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley sat up straighter, "Yeah."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"There was something on Kayleigh's palm," Sam said, "A carving."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Jesus..."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sending you the photo right now."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene's phone buzzed. With trembling hands, she clicked on the attached file. The skin of the palm was pale and wrinkled from being in water for too long, which only made the red outline of the Greek letters more prominent. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Did you get it?" Sam's voice came from the speaker. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Y-yes, I..."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Hello, Emily."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley almost dropped the phone, startled. Tiffany was standing in the door, looking at her with those big green eyes, "I'm so sorry to barge in —"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It's okay," Marlene assured her, "Sam, we'll talk when you get back," she hung up the phone without waiting for the reply. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I hope I didn't interrupt anything?" Tiffany said with a grimace.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, no, it's...nothing. Is everything okay? Did something happen?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, no," the blonde smiled, "Meghan and I were just wondering if you'd like to join us for some tea? I made cookies."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley looked at her laptop — there was a lot of research was to be done... "Uh..."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Come on, you've been at it for hours. You need a break," Tiffany insisted, "Some sugar to boost your energy?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">That wasn't such a bad idea, Marlene figured. She was already going crazy from staring at the computer screen, and how could anyone in their right mind say no to freshly baked cookies? Definitely not her. Besides, if Marley wouldn't leave that room at least for a couple of minutes, she'd burst into flames like a witch in a church. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, Emily," Meghan beamed at her from the dining table.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley returned the smile, "Hey. Thanks for letting me join." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Thanks for <em>joining</em>. Tiffany is such a bore, I'd snooze if you weren't here." The older sister rolled her eyes and poured Marlene a cup of steaming hot tea. "So, how's the investigation going?" Meghan asked.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Tiffany shot her a pointed look, "She's not allowed to tell us, Meghan. Right, Emily?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene was looking at them dumbly, a chocolate chip cookie in hand, "Yeah, sorry," she answered at last, "I'm afraid it's...confidential." Marley took the sip of the tea. It was camomile — how appropriate. She desperately needed to be soothed.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I'm just saying, it's so cool what you're doing," Meghan said excitedly, "All the agent stuff. You're like one of those badass women on TV."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Meghan</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Uh, thank you?..."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"And Agent Broderick is <em>so</em> dreamy," the girl sighed, nibbling on her cookie, "Tiffany totally has a crush on him."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Her older sister blushed, "I do not!" she said indignantly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Do too! Say, Emily," Meghan flashed her shrewd green eyes to Marley, "Are you two together?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She almost choked on the tea, "W-what?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You know," the girl raised a suggestive brow, "Are you <em>partners</em> partners?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"N-no. No, we're not <em>partners</em> partners," Marlene spluttered, "We're just partners. The regular ones. Without any, uh, weird stresses."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Tiffany shot her younger sister a "told you" look, "See?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Well, that doesn't prove anything. I think Agent Broderick likes you," Meghan said matter-of-factly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley let out a disbelieving snort, her cheeks growing slightly pink, "That's ridiculous."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Is it?" Meghan challenged, "Momma used to say that boys are only mean to you cause they like you." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene's smile fell, "What do you mean?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Meghan," Tiffany said sternly, "Enough with it."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The younger girl lowered her eyes, "Sorry, Emily." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, tell me," Marley insisted, "What did you mean?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It's nothing. Meg's just imagining things," Tiffany assured her. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, I'm not," the other sister muttered, "I heard him say it. On the phone."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene frowned. Was Sam talking to Bobby again? Were they talking about her?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Meghan, what did he say?" she asked, voice trembling with desperation.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The teenager looked at her older sister. Tiffany gave her a reluctant nod, "I think he was talking to your boss or something," Meghan mumbled, "He was saying that he couldn't work with you anymore, that it wasn't right. He also mentioned something about lying?" The words washed over Marlene like a bucket of ice-cold water, "I'm so sorry, Emily, it's none of my business — " </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The front door opened and Sheriff Dickson walked in with Sam in tow. Their grim faces didn't bode well at all. "Sheriff, what a nice surprise," Tiffany stood up, "Please, join us for tea. I — " </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Girls," Dickson interrupted her, "is your sister here?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene sent Sam a questioning look, but he just looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Did something happen, sheriff?" Tiffany asked. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The man sighed, "It's about your father." </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">Pastor Wilkinson's body had been discovered by one of the parishioners. He had been nailed to the back of the church building in a flipped crucifix encircled by a ring of blood. There was a message painted in crimson above it <span class="s3">—</span> "<b>OATHBREAKER</b>".</p><p class="p5">The news had spread quickly around the small town and by the time Sam and Marlene arrived at the scene, a crowd had gathered around it. Some cried, some stared in horror<span class="s3">— </span>the police had to take the pastor's body down and lay it on the ground to hide it from the prying eyes. Good thing Alex, Tiffany and Meghan stayed home and didn't have to see it.</p><p class="p5">Sheriff Dickson approached Sam and Marlene, "So, it appears Wilkinson's been stealing donation money," he told them.</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s4">Sam raised his brows in surprise. Marley wasn't that shocked, though </span>
  <span class="s1">— in her experience, people who went out of their way to seem pious always compensated for something. It's like they knew they were sinners and desperately wanted to repent. A twisted cycle of denial. </span>
</p><p class="p5">"Apparently, we got ourselves a vigilante," Dickson drawled, "What's that thing, anyway?" He jerked his head at the blood circle.</p><p class="p5">"You've seen something like this before? Here, in Tyro?" Sam asked.</p><p class="p5">"Never," the sheriff shook his head, "We ain't got no Satanists in these parts."</p><p class="p5">Marlene wasn't paying much attention to their conversation, too busy staring at the blood. She walked a little closer to it <span class="s3">— </span>there appeared to be some pattern, a shape...Was that a head?</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s4">"Hey, </span>
  <span class="s1">Agent Broderick?" Marley called. Sam said something to the sheriff and came over to her, "What do you see?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"A circle," he replied with a frown. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I know it's a <em>circle</em>. But does it remind you of something?" Sam studied it more carefully, but there was little to be seen in the dark. Marlene sighed, "There's a head, right at the top, see?" she pointed to it, "It looks like a snake, Sam." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He squinted at the ring and finally saw it — it was a snake curled into a hoop, its mouth open, biting onto own tale. Sam had seen the sign before..."Ouroboros," he turned to Marlene, "It's Ouroboros. The snake eating its own tail, destruction and creation?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh my God. You're right," she whispered. And then her eyes went completely wide, "The photo you sent me," Marley pulled out her phone and opened it, "It didn't make sense, but now...holy shit."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What was it?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"It says <em>Eumenides</em>," she said in Greek, "Which roughly translates into<em> "The Kindly Ones."</em>" Sam quirked a confused brow, "You really need to brush up on your Greek philosophy, Sam. It's Euripides, "Orestes"?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Is that a play where a guy kills his mother?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"That's the one. God, it makes so much more sense now." The children killing their parents, priests being punished for breaking their oath to God..."Sam, it's the Furies. It's got to be the Furies. I mean, the snakes? The streak of vengeance? Only they work in reverse. They make children kill their parents and <em>then</em> punish them for it. It's like...supply and demand."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Supply and demand?" Sam asked sceptically.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, I'm not an economist, okay? But I'm telling you, Sam — it can't be anything else." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He nodded slowly, considering the theory, "Alright. Yeah...we, uh, we should get back and do more research. Find a way to kill them before it gets too late. That girl from the diner, she could be the next victim."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Wouldn't it be weird to go back?" Marley asked, "I mean, with their father gone..."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"No, it's better if we're there. In case they're onto the pastor's entire family."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Okay." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Sam started walking towards the car that pastor Wilkinson had let them borrow. It was only then that Marlene suddenly realised that she hadn't once flinched when she saw his body. Was that how it happened? You got used to death so much, you stopped being afraid to see its face?</span>
</p><p class="p5">"Hey, Sam?" he turned to her, "Have you talked to Bobby today?"</p><p class="p5">"No...Why?"</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1"><em>He was saying that he couldn't work with you anymore, that it wasn't right</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p5">Marley shrugged, "I was just thinking about what's gonna happen when we get there. You know, like, with me?"</p><p class="p5">"What do you mean?" Sam frowned.</p><p class="p5">"You know what I mean. Dean and Bobby won't be happy when they find out...what I <em>am</em>."</p><p class="p5">"And whose fault is that?"</p><p class="p5">Marlene lurched to a stop, "Excuse me?"</p><p class="p5">Sam sighed, annoyed that he had to stop too, "You lied to them, Marlene. Do you really expect them to just deal with it and trust you?"</p><p class="p5">"<em>No</em>," Marley replied, although yes, she <em>was</em> secretly hoping that they wouldn't make a big deal out of this, "But <em>you</em> trust me, right?" When Sam didn't say anything, she repeated, more forcefully now, "<em>Right?</em>"</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He also mentioned something about lying?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Honestly? No, Marlene, I don't trust you." She flinched at the words, "I don't even know who you are. <em>What</em> you are. I mean, if Lucifer's interested in you, who's to say you're not going to cave in?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley's jaw slacked from disbelief, "I would <em>never</em> do that — "</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Your father did," Sam said, his eyes ruthless. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes flashed in the dark. <em>Oh, no he didn't</em>. "You know what, Sam?" Marlene hissed, "I think between the two of us, <em>you'd</em> be the one to take the "most likely to roll in the sheets with the Devil" award. I mean, with your impressive track record..." she trailed off sarcastically. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s4">Sam went stone-faced, jaw set tightly </span>
  <span class="s1">— Marley had gone too far. <em>Good</em>, some sick part of her whispered, taking joy from the pain she'd caused. After a moment of silence, Sam turned his back to her and went to the car. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">He had said so himself, he didn't trust her. None of them would — they'd rather kill her than take a chance. Marlene was a monster, and that's exactly what they did — they hunted things like her, things that didn't belong in this world. They were the hunters and she was the hunted.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Or was she?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marley's hand strayed to the gun in her belt. She wrapped her fingers around the cold steel and pulled it out. Sam was walking ahead, his back to her — they were far away from the crime scene, no one would hear the shot. If they did, Marlene would already be far away by the time they'd arrived. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">She took aim and let out a measured breath to stop the trembling in her hands. All she needed was to pull that trigger and...</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Wait — </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">What the hell was she doing? She couldn't kill Sam. Why would she even want to? </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Marlene instantly dropped her hand and shoved the gun back into the belt. She felt an itch in her neck. </span>
</p><p class="p5">The time was running out.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">Dean woke up to the racket of guns, his head resting against a pile of wet leaves. It took him a moment to realize where he was and that none of it had been a dream. The shit had hit the fan, and he'd spent God knows how much time knocked out on the ground.</p><p class="p5">Dean sprung up to his feat and followed the sound of gunshots. It was coming from the top levels of the Sanitarium <span class="s3">— who was in there? Cass, Marlene? Were they still alive? He needed to get inside, quickly. </span></p><p class="p5"><span class="s3">The sky erupted in thunder. Dean turned a corner </span>and ran out into a garden that led to the main entrance. He halted when he saw a tall figure standing in the middle of it. The man was clad in a white suit that came in contrast with the grim surroundings of the abandoned medical facility. Dean's eyes dropped to the ground and he stilled when he saw his own eyes looking back before they went completely blank. The man in white had snapped his neck. Beside Dean was lying someone else he recognised <span class="s3">— Marlene's lifeless body was sprawled on the wet grass, unmoving. </span></p><p class="p5">"Don’t worry, she’s alive." The voice sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He didn't know why it had surprised him <span class="s3">— </span>Dean knew who it was the second he stepped into that garden. The man in white turned back, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hello, Dean."</p><p class="p5">Thunder wrecked the skies, and a flash of lightening set it ablaze. Dean shielded his eyes and the second he opened them, Lucifer had disappeared.</p><p class="p5">"You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?"</p><p class="p5">Dean whipped around — the Devil was standing right behind him. He really wanted to think it was his brother <span class="s3">— it sure looked like him and talked like him too. But </span>the cold, soulless look in Sam's eyes suggested the opposite.</p><p class="p5">"Well, go ahead," Dean greeted out, "Kill me."</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Kill you?" Lucifer looked at his lifeless body from 2014, "Don't you think that would be a little...redundant?" Dean cut him a glare. Lucifer sighed, "I'm sorry. It must be painful, speaking to me in this — shape," he walked closer to Dean, "But it had to be your brother. It had to be." The Devil reached for his shoulder. Dean stumbled back. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. What do you think I'm going to do?" Lucifer walked past him. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know. Maybe deep-fry the planet?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The Devil gazed at a single blossomed rose, caressing its silky petals, "Why?" He turned back to Dean, "Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of God." Dean watched him, mouth curled in disgust. "You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, good God, you're not gonna tell me a bedtime story, are you? My stomach's almost out of bile."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You know why God cast me down?" Lucifer asked anyway. Dean had a feeling he was about to tell him, "Because I <em>loved</em> him. More than anything. And then God created..." his lips stretched into a deranged smirk, "...<em>you</em>. The little...hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down <em>before</em> you — to love <em>you</em>, more than <em>him</em>. And I said, "Father, I can't." I said, "These human beings are flawed, murderous,"" Lucifer snarled, nostrils flaring, "And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me," he almost begged, "Does the punishment fit the crime? Especially, when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame <em>me</em> for it."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">For a moment, Dean thought Sam was still there. The glimpse of vulnerability in Lucifer's eyes was painfully reminiscent of his brother. But there was nothing even remotely humane about the monster in front of him. If Sam had still been there, he would've done whatever he could to stop Lucifer. His brother was gone. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You're not fooling me, you know that?" Dean seethed, eyes flashing with hatred and unshed tears, "With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. I know what you are."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"What am I?" Lucifer wondered, genuinely curious. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life," Dean told him, "An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you...is the size of your ego."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer's face broke into a mirthless smile, "Tell me, Dean, how's my son?" Dean stilled, "See, I usually come to wish him good night, but yesterday...I was otherwise preoccupied. I hope he wasn't saddened by it." </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"He's not your son, you bastard," Dean growled. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I beg to differ. Some might say he's my spitting image," Lucifer said, "Besides, a child needs his father. Wouldn't you agree?" </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Dean glared at him, "You stay away from him."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The threat seemed to have only amused the Devil. He had a strangely endeared expression on his face, "I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you," Lucifer gave him an unsettling, kind smile, "Goodbye. We'll meet again soon," he began to walk away.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You better kill me now!" Dean yelled.</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">The Devil turned back, "Pardon?</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You better kill me now," Dean told him,"Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"I know you won't," Lucifer said plainly, advancing on him, "I know you won't say yes to Michael, either. And I know you won't kill Sam," Dean felt his eyes prickle with tears, "Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up...here," the Devil gestured to their surroundings, "I win," he considered it, "So...I win."</span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">"You're wrong," Dean shook his head wanly. </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer graced him with an ominous smile, "See you in five years, Dean." And he disappeared with a blinding flash of lightening. </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">Furies were deities of vengeance, ancient creatures older than Olympian Gods themselves. Borne from the blood of the great Uranus, they remained in the shadows of the underworld, only ascending to earth to pursue the wicked. In the "Iliad", Homer described them as <span class="s3">the Erinyes, "<em>that under earth take vengeance on men, whosoever hath sworn a false oath</em>." </span></p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s5">Marley obsessively scrolled through the website on Greek mythology and stopped her attention on one paragraph that completely sealed her suspicions: "</span>
  <span class="s1"><em>The wrath of the Erinyes manifested itself in a number of ways. The most severe of these was the tormenting madness inflicted upon a patricide or matricide.</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">The Furies carried brass-studded scourges as their primary weapon for punishment. "<em>Many believed that therein lied the secret to their doom— a knife made of golden brass and soaked in the nectar of pain.</em>" They were said to hunt the murderers and oath-breakers to the ends of the earth and feast on their poisoned blood until their screams were swallowed by Hades. Homer described them as a raging battalion of many, but Virgil recognised only three: Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone.</span>
</p><p class="p11">Marlene's fingers froze above the keyboard. Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone...no, it's not possible <span class="s3">— </span></p><p class="p11">A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. It opened with a creak, revealing Alex on the other side. Marley felt a pang of unease at her presence, "Hello, Emily. I hope I'm not intruding?..."</p><p class="p11">"Of course not," Marlene closed the laptop and put it away, "How are you doing?"</p><p class="p11">Alex walked into the room and sat down on the corner of the bed, "I'm...I'm fine. Tiffany is with Maggie, I think she cried herself to sleep," she said quietly. It looked like Alex herself had been crying <span class="s3">— her eyes were rimmed with red. </span></p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"I'm so sorry, Alex. Is there something I can do to help? I'm not much of a cook, but I could put together some dinner..." </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Alex smiled wanly, "That's very nice of you, but there's no need. You're already doing so much for our town, trying to find that...that killer. In fact, do <em>you</em> need any help?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s4">"Uh </span>
  <span class="s1">— no. No, but...thanks for offering." </span>
</p><p class="p11">"I was going to ask...is everything alright with you and Agent Broderick?" Noticing Marley's apprehension, Alex added, "He seemed kind of off."</p><p class="p11">Marley's chest tightened with guilt. She hadn't had the guts to face Sam since they returned <span class="s3">— not after what she'd said. Marlene would be surprised if he'd consider forgiving her. </span>"Yeah. Agent Broderick is just... worried about the case. He's, uh, <em>extremely</em> committed to his work."</p><p class="p11">"I see," Alex lifted her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. That's when Marley caught another glimpse of her bracelet <span class="s3">— a shiny piece of curling yellow. "That's...brass, right?" she asked, pointing to it. </span></p><p class="p11"><span class="s3">"Yes. You'd think it was gold," Alex chuckled. </span>Marley managed a weak laugh, though her heart was beating so violently, she worried Alex would hear it.</p><p class="p11">"You know what? Now that you've mentioned Agent Broderick, I'd better check up on him," Marlene rose from the bed and slowly moved to the door, "See how he's doing."</p><p class="p11">"Sure," Alex nodded in understanding, her emerald eyes flashing, "Better get to him before he gets to you."</p><p class="p11">Marley's hand stilled on the door handle. She turned back, "What do you mean?"</p><p class="p11">"Oh, Marlene..." Alex let out a patronising sigh, "Surely you understand that he's not going to let you walk free?"</p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p12"> </p><p class="p13">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s4">The house was eerily quiet. Sam tried to make as little noise as possible while he came down the stairs to the kitchen </span>
  <span class="s1">—everyone needed some rest after the day they'd had. The police had left only a few hours ago after turning the entire house upside down and interviewing the grieving Wilkinson sisters. Sam was actually surprised by how well they'd taken it, although the youngest one, Meghan, had quickly retreated into her room and hadn't left it since. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Sam came over to the sink to pour himself some water. But when he brought the glass to his mouth, he started at the reflection in the window. "Tiffany," Sam breathed, turning to her, "Sorry, did I wake you up?" </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry, I startled you," she said with a sweet smile. Come to think of it, Sam had never seen her <em>not</em> smiling.</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Don't worry about it. How are you doing?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Tiffany said nothing. She kept her keen eyes on Sam and began walking towards him. He frowned when she stopped, a touch away, and gazed up at him, "How are <em>you</em> feeling, Agent Broderick?" Tiffany asked coyly.</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"I...I, uh, I'm good," he tried to sound as polite as possible — the girl had been through a lot today, and the last thing Sam wanted was to be rude to her.</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">A crease appeared between Tiffany's brows, "You seem troubled." </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Sam breathed a nervous little laugh, "I'm — I'm not. Troubled." She got closer. He stumbled back and hit the sink. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, but you are," Tiffany whispered, her lips stretching into a sultry grin, "<em>Sam.</em>" He stilled, eyes widening, "You don't have to lie to me — I know all there is to know about you, Sam Winchester. Even that which you yourself do not."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"It's you," Sam suddenly realised, "You're a Fury." The girl winked at him. How could they've been so blind? Alex, Meghan, Tiffany — it's been under their noses the entire time...</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"I prefer to be called a 'Kindly One'," Tiffany told him, "See, we're no monsters, Sam —all we do is punish those who deserve it. We've kept the people safe, served them well, and they've made us into a nightmare," she spat, "You can understand the feeling, can't you? You needn't answer, I know you do." Sam reached for the knife stand by the sink, but his hand suddenly went slack — Tiffany's eyes glowed bright emerald, "You're not a monster, Sam, you're a <em>hero</em>. That wretched girl, on the other hand...<em>Marlene</em>," she hissed out, nose wrinkling in disgust, "She's the true abomination."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"You don't know what you're talking about," Sam seethed, feeling his mind gradually slip away. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Don't I? Her very existence is a mockery to the Gods. And trust me, Sam, Gods do not take lightly to being ridiculed," Tiffany said, the threat lingering in her words, "Yet despite all of it, she had the life you always wanted, the life you <em>deserved</em>. While you were branded a monster, a <em>killer</em>. Where's the fairness in that?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned and squeezed his eyes shut — what were those whispers in his head? Marlene had been lying to him. <em>To everyone</em>. Sam couldn't trust her...<em>You can't trust her</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Her father's brought upon the Apocalypse and she stood by him," Tiffany continued, noticing a growing flicker of hatred in his eyes, "Think about it: if it hadn't been for him and Marlene, Lilith wouldn't have gone free and you wouldn't have become...<em>this</em>," she laid a hand on his chest, "If you kill her now, maybe Gods will grant you forgiveness. Don't you want to repent for your sins, Sam? Because this is your chance. A chance to prove to everyone that all you've ever wanted was to keep this world safe from creature like <em>her</em>," Tiffany's eyes flashed bright green again, pupils thinning into slits, "She has to die."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. The Road Goes Ever On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>Seven Devils </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 19 / The Road Goes Ever On</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">"</span> <span class="s1"> <em>Crouched on the altar-steps, a grisly band</em> </span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Of women slumbers — not like women they,</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>But Gorgons rather; nay, that word is weak,</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Nor may I match the Gorgons’ shape with theirs!</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Such have I seen in painted semblance erst—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus’ board,—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>But these are wingless, black, and all their shape</em> </span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s1"> <em>The eye’s abomination to behold.</em> </span> <span class="s3">" </span></p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p5">— Aeschylus, "The Furies"</p><hr/><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p7"><em>Oh, God, oh God, oh God</em>Marlene was repeating in her head as she all but glided down the stairs. Never in her entire life had she felt so freaking stupid. Of course, it had to be three innocent girls living with their windowed pastor father in a little cottage up the hill <span class="s3">— it's creepy shit 101. </span>The truth had been right there the entire time: three sisters whose names just happened to be almost synonymous to three goddesses of vengeance with snakes for hair and taste for blood of the sinners.</p><p class="p8"><span class="s4">Marley knew she had to kill Sam. She wished she didn't have to, but the voice in the back of her head wasn't lying </span> <span class="s1">— it was either her or him, and Marlene wasn't ready to die just yet. Perhaps, she wouldn't even need to kill him. If she could just reason with him — </span></p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1"><em>No</em>. God, what was she thinking? It wasn't the voice in the back of her head, it was Alex. Alecto — the goddess of wrath, <em>she</em> was the one driving Marley mad. But why? Yes, she <em>had</em> thought about killing her father once or twice in her twenty four years, a bit more in the past few months, probably, but she'd never actually done it. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Go figure. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam hadn't been in his room. Or in the bathroom, or in the kitchen, or anywhere in that blasted house of horrors. Where the hell was he? Marlene would kill h — <em>nope</em>, no she wouldn't. She ran out to the porch that was lit by a single struggling lantern and saw a tall, dark silhouette by the withered field. It could easily be a scarecrow but for the voluminous hair. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marlene stormed up to him, "Sam, we gotta leave before I kill you. I know that didn't at all sound reasonable, but you have to trust me. Just this once." When Sam didn't make a single move to turn around, she frowned, a foreboding chill running down her spine, "Sam, are listening to me? I'm saying it's the sisters. Alex, Tiffany, Meghan — they're the Furies and they know we know. It's starting, Sam, we gotta go before we kill each — ," she was cut off by the barrel of the gun being pointed in her face, "— other." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I'm sorry, Marlene," Sam told her, his eyes resolute, "But there's no other way."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marley eyed the gun, then looked up at him, "I'm sure there're lots of ways," she said very carefully, "You could put the gun down and have a talk with me — that's one of them."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"No...No, you were right — I <em>am</em> a monster. And this — this is my chance to repent. To fix it," Sam was saying frantically, "You're an abomination, Marlene. You — you and your father, you started all of it. And for that, you must die." Marlene stumbled back, "Don't move!" Sam yelled. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She raised her hands in the air, "A-alright, alright! See? I'm not moving," Marley let out a measured breath, her eyes glued to the gun, "Sam, this isn't you talking — it's the venom. Remember? The snake bite, the murders, the <em>madness?</em> <em>That's</em> the madness part."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"And how do I know you're not lying, huh? You're so good at it," Sam snarled. </span>
</p><p class="p7">The irony of this situation didn't escape Marlene. This entire trip she'd been trying to rile him up and now that she'd succeeded <span class="s3">— sort of — and </span>all the anger he'd been suppressing was finally beginning to resurface, she wished Sam was still his silent, brooding self.</p><p class="p8"><span class="s4">"Because you're aiming a gun at my head," Marley replied plainly, "Look, I know I'm a devious little abomination that had you fooled. But </span> <span class="s1">— " she broke off when Sam's face darkened at her words, "— but you do trust <em>yourself</em>, don't you? You feel that something's wrong, that your mind is not your own?"</span></p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned, his hand wavering a little. <em>Yes</em>, Marley thought, <em>fight it</em>. "I know you're angry, Sam. You have every right to be. I...I'm so, <em>so</em> sorry for lying and for everything my father did. To you, to the millions of people who're very possibly going to die because he wanted to save <em>me</em>," her vision became blurred from the veil of tears that were clouding her eyes, "You're right, I'm a monster. You're a monster — but we didn't <em>choose</em> it. We had no control over the cards we were dealt. The game, though? The game is ours to play, Sam. And how we decide to play it — <em>that's</em> what matters." His face was contorted with tormenting indecision, "If you just listen to me, we can beat this. <em>Together</em>," Marlene implored, "<em>Fight it</em>, Sam."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam grimaced from pain, his hand trembling violently. In the silver light of the moon, Marley could see a shimmer of sweat on his forehead — it took everything in him to fight the venom. Sam let out an animalistic growl, mouth curling into a snarl, and dropped the hand. His body instantly went slack.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Sam?" Marlene called tentatively. His head was bowed in shame. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">After a beat of silent, Sam looked up at her, eyes filled with remorse, "Marlene, I..."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Alright, you're good," she breathed with relief, "We can apologise and sing odes to each other when we're out of this Sleepy Hollow. Do you still have the keys to the pastor's car?" Sam nodded, still disoriented from the violent, venom-induced daze, "Give them to me." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">He pulled the car keys out of his jacket and tossed them to Marlene.</span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Where are you driving?" Sam asked from the passenger seat. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marley glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure Apollo wasn't giving the sisters a lift, "Away from the piggy farm. Are you feeling better?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know..."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Do you still want to <em>kill</em> me?" Sam gave her a side-eye, "What? I, for one, would still very much like to do something violent with you. Can I slap you?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">He sucked in an annoyed breath, "Marlene — "</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"We have to stay honest with each other, Sam," Marley glanced over at him, "That's the only way to know if things get bad."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"No, I don't want to kill you," Sam answered demonstratively, "But how do we kill <em>them</em>?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"They're vulnerable to brass. Something about their weapon being used against them," Marley said, "And, uh...well. It kind of has to be <em>"soaked in the nectar of pain"</em>?" she quoted with a healthy dose of scepticism, "Whatever that means."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam's brows twitched towards each other. The nectar of pain...God, his neck was itching again — he stilled, eyes widening. <em>Of course</em>, "It's the venom," Sam turned to Marlene, "The venom is the nectar of pain."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marley felt a familiar tingle in the skin of her neck, "What a poetic way to put it," she seethed and pressed on the gas. She felt like Captain Hook being constantly reminded that his time was running out by an annoying crocodile. "Where do we even get their venom?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"The coroner's," Sam told her. He seemed to have regained his strength, fueled by the break in the case, "The doc keeps all the samples in the lab. We get inside, we grab the vials, we get out."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marlene threw him a scandalised look, "Are you suggesting we pull a heist, Winchester?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"If that's what you want to call it," Sam turned away to his window. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I do," she assured him, ignoring all the sarcasm, "Have to say, though, I've imagined my first heist being somewhere in Monte-Carlo. Stealing a Faberge egg from a sheikh." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam hated to indulge in this, but he couldn't help but ask, "Why would he bring a Faberge egg with him to Monte-Carlo?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Because he's <em>rich</em>. So I seduce the sheikh and while he's telling me all about his horses, you sneak in, steal the egg and disappear in the dead of night."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"And what are <em>you</em> gonna do?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, I stay with the sheikh," Marlene replied like it was plain as day, "He's indecently wealthy, I decide to infiltrate his harem. Stakes are very high, his wives are jealous. Some of them plot to poison me. But I play to win," she points out matter-of-factly, "I give him a son, now I'm the favoured wife. He buys me a yacht. Life's good."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam frowned, "What about the heist?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"What heist?" Marley asked innocently. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">He couldn't tell annoyance from the desire to kill anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"This is a very bad idea," Marley whispered. She parked the car almost a block away from the morgue and turned off the headlights for complete obscurity. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam eyed the entrance — there was no one at the door, "Come on," he said to Marlene and got out of the car. Murkiness of the night gave them the perfect cover to stay unnoticed, which wasn't even necessary, really — the streets of Caney were peacefully deserted.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Do you know how to — " Sam already crouched down to pick the lock, "— of course you do," Marley muttered. She swept her eyes over the street to make sure no one was around to see a 6 feet tall giant breaking into the morgue in the middle of the night.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam opened the door carefully to avoid making any noise as though it could somehow wake up the dead. The place felt even more unsettling in the dark, like an entrance to the underworld where Charon was waiting in his boat to take you to the other side. This place didn't belong to the living. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Do you know where the samples are?" Marlene asked. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"They should be in the lab," Sam switched on the flashlight and turned to her, "Stay here, watch the door. I'm gonna be back." </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"But — " he already turned the corner, leaving Marley alone in the hall, surrounded by dead people. She heaved out a resigned sigh, "You've gotta be kidding me."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">What was she going to do? Wait there until the venom had completely kicked in and she killed Sam? At least, they wouldn't have to take his body anywhere. It was a pretty convenient place to die. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Did you find it yet?" Marley yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Not yet," Sam replied significantly less loudly, "It was supposed to be in the lab."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marlene frowned, "And now it <em>isn't</em>?" she thought she saw blue and red lights through the little window in the door. Her suspicions were confirmed when the sound of wet tires came from the street, accompanied by the unmistakable roar of an engine. <em>Please don't stop, please don't stop, please don't stop</em> — </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">The roar faded out right outside of the coroner's office. "Shit," Marley cursed and looked around frantically — where would she hide? She tried the study, but it was locked, so was the freaking <em>bathroom</em>. Who locked a bathroom? It's not like any of those guys were going to take a dump and forget to flush after. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marlene could hear the footsteps at the door — there was no time to waste. And so she pelted down the hall and stormed into the laboratory, shutting the door behind her. Sam turned around, hands filled with a pair of vials, "Hey, I think I — " Marlene pressed a hand to his mouth and pushed him behind a tall storage cabinet. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Shh...</em>" she jerked her head to the hall. The entrance door creaked open and someone walked inside. With bated breath, Marley and Sam listened closely to the officer's steps, his flashlight getting closer and closer to the lab door. He checked the other doors, then stopped and peered inside the lab window — Marlene and Sam stilled, staring at each other in alarm. Five seconds...ten...twenty...</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">The flashlight disappeared. And a moment later, the officer's footsteps could be heard retreating down the hallway, towards the exit. Only when the door closed behind him, did Marley finally breath and also realise that her hand was still covering Sam's mouth. She became awfully aware of it in that moment, and of the fact that her body was so close to his, she could feel his heartbeat. Which meant that he could also feel hers — </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Sorry," Marlene all but jumped away, hoping that her red face would go unnoticed, "So, uh, are those?..." she pointed at the vials.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam, still slightly abashed from what had happened, nodded, "Charlie and Kayleigh's samples," he pursed his lips, showing a pair of dimples. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Alright, good. Now we just need to find...brass," as soon as she said it, Marley realised that she could name very few object made of it, neither of which were eligible to be used as a weapon. By the look on Sam's face, he, too, was a little stumped. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">But then his eyes brightened with an epiphany, "Bullets. They got brass casing," he took out his gun and put it on the autopsy table, "If we cover them in venom..."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"...one shot to the head and the bitches are dead," Marley finished. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Talk about the taste of your own medicine. </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Are we sure this is gonna work?" Marlene asked when they were on their way back to the pastor's house. This time, Sam was driving and she was coming up with all the ways this entire plan could go south, "What if killing them doesn't stop the venom from spreading?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Then...we die," Sam said casually. Marley noticed that he was scratching his neck. He had been a little jittery ever since they left the coroner's, "Did you load your gun?"</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Y-yeah. I think so."</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"And do you remember how to shoot it?" Sam asked, referring to the five-minute master class he had given in the morgue. It was like preparing for a thesis discussion right before you go in. Not helpful at all but kind of reassuring. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Uh-huh," she mumbled. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam gripped the wheel tighter, feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over him. His head felt light, <em>too</em> light, the road ahead twisting into a spiral. What was happening? Sam shook his head to fight it. His heart was thumping in his ears, temples pulsing. <em>You can't trust her</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Marlene eyed him with worry — he was shuffling in his seat and constantly stretching his neck, "Sam?" she frowned when he didn't reply, "Hey — "</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I'm fine, Marlene," he greeted out.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"Fight it. We're almost at the finish li — Hey!" Marlene yelled when three figures appeared in the middle of the road, "Sam, stop!" Despite her frantic pleas, Sam stayed frozen, just staring blankly at the road. Marlene darted forward and gripped the wheel, turning it all the way to the left to avoid collision. The rubber shrieked against the dry asphalt, and the car went off the road, heading straight for a tree.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Smoke, broken glass — Marley couldn't see anything through it. Her head was pounding with pain, blood dripping from her forehead. She turned to Sam, and saw him looking around in shock as though he had been out the entire time before the crash. When he noticed the blood on Marlene's face, his eyes widened, "Are you okay?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She unfastened the seatbelt and winched. God, every muscle in her body was aching, "All good," Marley whimpered and all but hauled herself out of the car, "Oh, God...Sam, you got the gun?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">She heard him reload it, "Yeah. You good to walk?" </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"I'm not sure I'm good to <em>stand</em>," It seemed like she'd strained her ankle, "Maybe if we pretend we're dead, they'll skedaddle back to the underworld?" She wondered hopefully, looking at the three wraiths patiently waiting for them. </span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">Sam and Marlene walked back to the road and stopped, facing the three sisters. None of them were smiling anymore — stone-faced, they stood in a triangular formation, emeralds gleaming in the dark. It was true what they said — appearances could indeed be deceiving.</span>
</p><p class="p8">
  <span class="s1">"At last, you've come," Alecto spoke, her voice soothing. Like a hiss. </span>
</p><p class="p8"><span class="s1">"We were growing weary," </span> <span class="s5">Tisiphone added. </span></p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"Death awaits no one," said the youngest one. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"Why are you here?"</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Alecto flashed her cunning eyes to Sam, "Because of you," she looked at Marlene, "And <em>her</em>. You can't imagine how <em>long</em> we've been waiting for this moment. The likes of you have escaped our punishment for thousands of years. And now here we are."</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"The girl with the angel blood," Tisiphone derided. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Megaera tilted her head, "The boy who freed the Devil."</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"The natural order of things has been disturbed. And those responsible must be punished," Alecto stepped forward and the shining bracelet that was curled around her wrist unwinded itself into a brass whip in her hand. Like a snake... "We simply couldn't stay away." </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"We needed to right the wrongs," Tisiphone said, taking hold of her own serpent. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Megaera joined her sisters, "It's what we do." </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"That's why you killed innocent people?" Sam spat.</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Alecto cut him a glare, "They weren't innocent! They killed their elders!" </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"Because you <em>drove</em> them to it," said Marlene. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"The intention was already there. We knew their hearts and they spoke violence," Tisiphone replied, ever the reasonable one. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Megaera nodded, "They got what they deserved." </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Alecto gripped the scourge tighter, "And so will you." The sisters advanced on them, the brass serpent-whips glimmering in the shadows. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Marlene and Sam drew their guns and started shooting at the slowly approaching figures. Marley couldn't even tell where she was aiming or if she was aiming at all — the adrenalin pumping through her body made it impossible to concentrate. She could only pull the trigger again and again, hoping that one of the bullets would miraculously meet its aim.</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Sam was more successful, though, and managed to hit the youngest one in the arm. Megaera let out a piercing shriek, her eyes glowing bright green. She swung the whip with a ferocious snarl on her doll-like face, but Sam had seen it coming and darted to the left, dodging the blow. </span>
</p><p class="p13">"Poisoned bullets," Alecto purred, unbothered by the relentless attacks, "How very inventive." Sam noticed something strange on her left arm — a bloody gash. He hadn’t shot her, had he?</p><p class="p13">Marlene kept on blasting at Tisiphone, but the girl masterfully evaded every bullet, blocking some of them with a precise swipe of her scourge. She was getting closer and closer to Marley, face the picture of quiete rage. <em>Concentrate</em>, Marlene told herself when Tisiphone came close enough to take good aim at her head. She bated her breath, gripped the gun with both hands, squinted her eyes —</p><p class="p13">— and Tisiphone’s scourge wrapped itself around the barrel. The goddess snatched the gun out of Marley's’s grip, leaving her weaponless. To the mercy of devine retribution. It came quicker than she’d expected, which made it all the more sweet for Tisiphone when the scourge slithered around Marlene’s neck like an anaconda.</p><p class="p13">Sam must’ve heard the suffocating gasps and whipped his head to see her fighting against the serpents's deadly hold. He pointed the gun at Tisiphone, but before Sam could pull the trigger, it was swung out of his hands by Alecto. He didn’t even have the time to retaliate — next thing Sam knew, his hands were being tied behind his back by Megaera’s scourge. She tugged on it harshly, tightening the knot. Sam hissed and fell to his knees. He turned to Marlene who was writhing on the ground, scratching at the whip around her neck. "Let her go," Sam seethed, glaring at Alecto who was standing before him.</p><p class="p13">"Let her go?" she feigned surprise, "But she’s going to die. Isn't that what you wanted?"</p><p class="p13">Sam fought against the restraints until it suddenly struck him. <em>An abomination</em>. It <em>was</em> what he wanted. <em>She can’t be trusted</em>.</p><p class="p13">Marlene saw the shift in Sam’s eyes and tried to yell, but only a horse croak came out. Tisiphone tugged on the scourge, and Marley grimaced with a silent cry.</p><p class="p13">Alecto pulled out an old, rusty-looking knife from her blue cardigan and rolled it between her fingers. She brought the blade to Sam’s face — it was dark yellow, bordering on red. <em>Brass</em>, "Perhaps..." Alecto traced it along his cheekbone and down his chin. She tipped it up, making Sam meet her cunning, reptilian eyes, "...you would like to do the honours?"</p><p class="p13">Tisiphone jerked Marlene up and held her on a tight leash as an unwilling offering. Marley couldn't make a sound — she could barely <em>breathe</em>, her eyes doing all the talking. She implored Sam to look at her, to hear the pleas to fight the compulsion, to fight the <em>anger</em>, but he was staring at the knife in Alecto's hand. And then he nodded.</p><p class="p13">With a gesture from her older sister, Megaera freed Sam's hands. Slowly, he rose to his feet, head still bowed, and reached for the knife. Marlene wished she could see his face — why wasn't he looking at her? Was he sorry? She doubted it. The venom left no room for doubt.</p><p class="p13">"Do it, Sam," Alecto whispered.</p><p class="p13">"All will be absolved."</p><p class="p13">"<em>Repent.</em>"</p><p class="p13">Sam curled his fingers around the jagged handle and turned to face Marlene. He expected her eyes to be filled with rage, but was surprised to meet cold resignation. Her jaws were set tightly, mouth an unwavering line. Sam frowned.</p><p class="p13">"Kill her," Alecto hissed in his year.</p><p class="p13">He glanced at the knife, then at Marlene, who was staring at him with a strange resolution. It almost seemed like she was ready to meet her death. Where would she go if she died? None of them knew. From what she'd told him, it could give Hell a run for its money.</p><p class="p13">"She's a monster, Sam," Tisiphone said, noticing his hesitation.</p><p class="p13">"Yes," Sam gripped the handle tighter, "And so am I," he growled and sliced his palm with the brass blade, coating it with his blood. Before the sisters knew what he was doing, Sam turned around and thrust the knife under Alecto's chin, piercing her head.</p><p class="p13">The three sisters let out an ear-splitting cry, their faces painted with horror. A bright green light shot out of Alecto's eyes and mouth. and both Sam and Marlene turned away from the blinding explosion. The scourge around Marley's neck limped, and she jumped away right when the Furies' bodies caught emerald flames. And with a final tormenting screech, all of them turned to dust.</p><p class="p13">Marley stared at the three piles of ashes, open-mouthed. Her neck was still hurting from where a brass whip had been curled, squeezing the living shit out of her. She looked at Sam, "How did you know it would work?"</p><p class="p13">The dropped the bloodied knife and answered after a moment of silence, "I didn't."</p><p class="p14"> </p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p16">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p13"><span class="s3">Amid this entire chaos, there seemed to be some good news, after all </span>— Rory-the-mechanic had finished the car, and they were good to get the hell out of that blasted town. Sam took the wheel since Marlene's leg was still a mess — she was pretty sure she'd have a limp forever.</p><p class="p13">The car ride was silent again, but Marley attributed it solely to the fact that she could barely talk after having been strangled with a whip. Why did everyone always go for her neck? There were other perfectly vulnerable parts of her body. It was getting kind of old, to be honest. The silence wasn't unsettling anymore, though. There was no animosity or tension in the air — it felt peaceful, like an unspoken reconciliation.</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"I've been meaning to say," Marley croaked out. Sam glanced over at her, "Thanks for not killing me." </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">He didn't say anything for some time, face thoughtful, "Did you really think I would?" </span>
</p><p class="p12"><span class="s1">"A little," she confessed, "I kind of had it coming, though, didn't I? For trying to <em>awake the beast</em>." Sam shook his head with a small smile. Marley watched his from the corner of her eye, "Hey, I </span> <span class="s4">—</span> <span class="s1"> uh, I'm sorry. For what I said to you." Sam turned to her with a frown, "About Lucifer?"</span></p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">He looked away, "I'm sorry, too. I was kind of...being an asshole."</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"You could say that," Marley muttered ruefully. </span>
</p><p class="p12"><span class="s1">"I do trust you, Marlene," Sam told her, "But </span> <span class="s4">— </span> <span class="s1">I need time. To process everything and..."</span></p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">She nodded, "Of course, I get it. You don't feel the burning urge to kill me anymore, though, do you?" </span>
</p><p class="p12"><span class="s1">"No," Sam chuckled, "I'm feeling </span> <span class="s4">— </span> <span class="s1">actually, I'm feeling pretty good," he said, surprised to realise that it was actually true. Well, Marlene thought, perhaps, she hadn't almost died for nothing. </span></p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">A ringtone broke the soothing quiet that had settled over between them. Sam looked at Marley, but she just shrugged. He took the phone out of his pocket and spoke wearily, "Yes?" When the other person replied, Sam's face completely changed, "Dean? Yeah...We're in Kansas. Yes, I'm with Marlene," he glanced at her, "Alright. We'll meet you there." </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"What is it?" Marley asked.</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Sam hung up the phone, "It's Dean. He wants to meet."</span>
</p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p16">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p15"> </p><p class="p12"><span class="s1">Dean stood leaning against the Impala, eyes glued to the road when finally, a bumpy old Chevroletpulled up. He could see Sam's enormous head at the steering wheel, and in the passenger seat was Marlene, </span> <span class="s4">looking ridiculously tiny next to his brother. </span></p><p class="p13">She squinted her eyes and saw a figure standing by the ancient piece of metal. Seeing Dean filled Marley with panic. She knew she'd have to tell him the truth at some point, in the very near future, and the thought gave her crippling anxiety. It only grew when Sam stopped the car and got out — Marlene'd decided to stay behind to give them some brotherly time to reunite.</p><p class="p13">Dean and Sam met half-way and just stood there for a moment, both too stubborn to start talking. Marley saw Dean reach into his pocket. He pulled out a knife — <em>the</em> knife, the one they'd killed Ruby with, and handed it to Sam. They exchanged some words, and Sam smiled. <em>Oh, thank God</em>, Marlene thought.</p><p class="p13">"Hey, Marlene!" Dean yelled. She almost jumped in her seat from shock. Was he calling for <em>her? </em>Thoroughly mystified, Marley got out of the car and trudged up to the brothers. Dean didn't miss the limp in her step, "Let me guess, I should see the other guy?" he looked between her and Sam.</p><p class="p13">Sam huffed out a small, enigmatic laugh, "It's, uh, a long story."</p><p class="p13">"I'd rather forget these three days ever happened," Marley said. </p><p class="p13">Dean let out a heavy sigh, "Couldn't agree more."</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">"So, what do we do now?" Sam asked. </span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Dean looked at him, then at Marlene. There was something strange in his eyes, a warmth that hadn't been there before, "We make our own future."</span>
</p><p class="p12">
  <span class="s1">Sam nodded, staring at the winding road ahead, "Guess we have no choice."</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>hey guys!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>So that marks the end of Sammy and Marley's little adventure. What did you think about it?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I want to thank all of your comments and kudos!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I've also got a bit of an announcement, sort of.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>After the last episode, I feel like I need to take a little hiatus, just to come to grips with the lot of it (those who've seen it, will know what I'm talking about).</b>
</p><p>
  <b>So I'll see you in a week or two!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>xxx, marie</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. The Calm Before the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 20 / The Calm Before the Storm </span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"> "</span><span class="s1"><em>He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’ They were terrified and asked each other, ‘Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!</em></span><span class="s3"><em>’</em></span>"</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Mark 4:39-41</em>
  </span>
</p><hr/><p class="p4"><span class="s5">Her fingers tightened around the metal grip. It felt rough against her skin </span>— unblemished, unsoiled, tender skin. There was a sense of...<em>wrongness</em> to it: to see a sword where once had been a pen. <em>Words cut deeper than swords</em>, they say. Well, Marley had very recently learned that you couldn't very well kill an ancient evil with a quip, however witty, so...you had to use something a little sharper.</p><p class="p4">Squinting, she took aim—that sorry can didn't stand a single chance. Even though it <em>had</em> got lucky about a dozen times before this Hail Mary moment. Marley'd never thought she'd suck at this quite so much. Hell, she was even a little cocky — she'd been a regular Hickok at every summer fair in Cambridge. She'd even won a glow stick bracelet that one time. No ducks were left standing.</p><p class="p4">But cans appeared to be a different beast entirely.</p><p class="p4">Marlene let out a steady breath, feeling the trigger under the pad of her index finger. A fraction of a movement that could end somebody's life. Or save Marley's. If she stopped sucking at this so much, that is. Otherwise, it might just be her downfall — she never excluded a possibility of accidentally shooting herself to death.</p><p class="p4">"Come on," a whisper fell from her chapped lips. Marlene stuck out her tongue in concentration — she always did that; a habit since she was a kid. Maddock'd made fun of it incessantly, calling it the "peak concentration" look. Marley's chest tightened at the memory. The ringing laughter of the past long assigned to oblivion. The life she used to <em>live</em>, surrounded by the people she loved, instead of the one she was barely scraping through.</p><p class="p4">And so she pulled the trigger.</p><p class="p4">Marley knew everything was screwed the moment she felt a tremor in her hand. The tremor that sent the bullet on a wild adventure. She squeezed her eyes shut at the blasting sound of broken glass. And then there was silence.</p><p class="p4">Marlene opened them after a few seconds and chanced a look at the can — it was staring smugly at her, untouched. A little bit farther away, though, was the unfortunate fatality: a car that was mysteriously short of a headlight. Bobby was going to kill her.</p><p class="p4">With a feral growl of a perfectionist who couldn't get something done, Marlene strolled up to the can and viciously kicked it off its wooden pedestal, "That's what you get," she hissed, pleased that she'd managed to do at least <em>that</em>.</p><p class="p4">"Lucifer is <em>quaking</em>," a snigger came from behind.</p><p class="p4">Riding the wave of eternal exasperation, Marley turned around and shot Dean a glare, "Well, we can't all be angelic weapons of destruction." He lifted a brow at the comment, leaning against the hood of an old Dodge. She sighed, "Sorry. I'm just...tired."</p><p class="p4">Marley threw the handgun on the cluttered table in Bobby's workshop and brushed a hand through her hair — she'd been practicing to shoot a gun for the better part of the morning, with little result. Ever since that day in Tyro, Marlene couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of helplessness. Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night and reach for her neck, expecting to find a whip wrapped around it, her throat tightening. Even through the bruise had long faded, Marley could still make out a faint purple line on her alabaster skin. It sent a shiver down her spine.</p><p class="p4">Suffice to say, after her <em>independence road trip</em>, that resulted in double-homicide charges and an intimate run in with death — <em>twice</em> — Marley's announcement of going back into the wild world was met with some resistance. As in, she'd been specifically ordered to stay at Bobby's and, preferably, avoid getting killed and getting in jail. And seeing as she could barely protect herself against a can and there was a warrant for her arrest in two states, Marlene hadn't put up much of a fight. </p><p class="p4">She caught Dean watching her and narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. Thing is, Dean had been watching her a lot lately. Marlene would lie if she said it didn't freak her out. Was he planning on murdering her? She knew Sam must've told him about their little heart to heart back in Oklahoma — was Dean silently plotting her demise? He wasn't such a dick to her anymore, though. But it was weird, too, in a way — Marley didn't trust the sudden niceties. If anything, they were making her all the more suspicious. What the hell was Dean Winchester's deal?</p><p class="p4">"Wanted for two murders and I can't even shoot a can," Marley grumbled, joining him by the car, "Where's the fair in that?"</p><p class="p4">Dean didn't say anything. Again — weird. Since when did he miss a chance to make fun of her bad luck?</p><p class="p4">"So...uh," Marley chanced a wary look at him, "Sam told me. About your...conversation."</p><p class="p4">
  <em>And there it is</em>
</p><p class="p4">"He did?" she pursed her lips, "Of course he did."</p><p class="p4">"Pretty big damn thing to keep to yourself, Marlene."</p><p class="p4">"I know," she said with a wince, "I'm sorry, I just...I didn't know how to tell you without coming off Antichrist-y." A beat, "So if he told you..."</p><p class="p4">"Bobby knows."</p><p class="p4">Marley nodded, "Right." She feared the old man's reaction more than divine retribution.</p><p class="p4">"So, what, are you an <em>angel</em>?" Dean asked, face scrunched into a frown.</p><p class="p4">Marley snorted, "God, I wish it were a pickup line. And no, I don't think so. I mean, no one really gave me the heavenly birds and bees talk, but I'm pretty sure that's not how angels are made."</p><p class="p4">Dean considered it for a moment. "Maybe Cass knows something."</p><p class="p4">"Oh, he does. He calls me an abomination," Marlene told him casually. He quirked a bemused brow, "It's an inside joke. I still have no idea what I am, though. Not even my dad has fully figured it out. All I know is that an archangel decided to smash booties with my proto-grandma and they didn't use protection."</p><p class="p4">"Gabriel."</p><p class="p4">"That's the one," Marley drawled sarcastically, "Then the heavens cursed our bloodline and two millenia later, our mutual pal and a diehard teacher's pat decided to cash in on the aftermath to win favour with the Dark Lord. The rest, as they say, is history."</p><p class="p4">"So this angelic X-gene reacted to the demon blood?"</p><p class="p4">"That's the working theory. 'Cause it never really happened to anyone in my family before, they lived pretty normal lives. I mean, obviously, there's still <em>the curse</em>, but they didn't see demons or hear angels or anything like that. That's all me," Marlene sighed, "Blessed and damned."</p><p class="p4">Dean huffed out a humourless laugh, shaking his head, "This world'd a freaking sandbox for these pricks," he muttered.</p><p class="p4">"My dad would've quoted Shakespear. "<em>All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players</em>," Marley tried to imitate his deep voice and excessive theatrics, "He always did that, it was so annoying." The smile slipped off her face as soon as Marlene realised she'd used the past tense.</p><p class="p4">She hadn't talk to her father in more than a month — <em>God</em>. What must he be thinking, seeing all that nonsense on the news? <em>He's willing to let millions die, what's two more?</em> Maybe he's proud Marley was speeding the process. "And then he went and pressed 'Enter' on the Apocalypse," she added bitterly.</p><p class="p4">Dean glanced over at Marlene, brow furrowing at the melancholic expression on her face. He'd seen it already. Five years into the future. "Hey, even angels got daddy issues," Dean said after some time, mouth quirked into cheerful a smile.</p><p class="p4">"Well, if <em>God</em> isn't perfect, than there's no hope for any of us, is there?"</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">They'd been laying low at Bobby's for a couple of days now, and Dean was itching to get back on the road. </span>
</p><p class="p4"><span class="s5">While Sam, Marlene and the old man were busy looking for any clues on Lucifer's whereabouts,he scoured the web for a new case. It seemed, though, that the evil had decided to take a week off </span>— the most suspicious thing that happened was Aaron Maybin scoring a goal in the playoff against the Colts. The dry spell, however, did nothing to hinder Dean's resolve and so he found himself aimlessly browsing random websites in hopes of stumbling upon news of a gruesome murder. What made that ordeal a bit easier, though, was his newly-discovered source of entertainment.</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene and Sam's occasional conversations or, rather, word exchanges were painful to witness. Or <em>delightful</em> if you asked Dean. To him, they were absolutely hilarious, and he was having an awful good time watching the show of two sorry actors. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The exchanges were few, they were short, and they were very, very awkward. Dean had once told Sam, when Marley'd gone into the kitchen to get some coffee, that every time they talked looked like an opening scene from a low-budget porn. It had earned him the stinkiest eye. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean was currently reading an article about a group of teenagers who'd encountered a hairy creature in the woods in Minneapolis. One of them'd sworn it was the Bigfoot, which had riled up all the conspiracy theorists in the region. Only the ball of fur'd turned out to be a wannabe Bear Grylls who had sequestered himself in a cave in the thick of the woods. When asked what'd prompted him to venture on such a wild adventure, the man'd replied that "<em>when his wife kicked him out of the house, he had a sudden revelation and knew he was meant to find another path to tread in life."</em></span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Hey, who's got the Revelations?" Marley asked from the couch. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean noticed Sam shuffle in the seat opposite him. He looked up from the useless article, lips stretching into a smile. <em>Here it goes</em></span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam cleared his throat, "Uh, that'd be me." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Silence. "Oh." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I, uh, I'm almost finished with it. There's a verse </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p4">"Oh, sorry, no — it's fine, you...take your time. I was just...yeah, it's whatever. Verse away."</p><p class="p4">Dean couldn't hold back the snort that ripped out of his mouth. It was almost comical the way Sam and Marlene glared at him at the same time, round eyes accusatory. He instantly assumed a very serious expression, "Sorry. This article's just..." he let out a nervous little laugh that grew into an awkward cough. <span class="s5">The growing tension came to a halt thanks to one of Bobby's phones ringing. <em>Saved by the freaking bell</em>. </span></p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Which one is it, Bobby?" Dean asked.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Bobby wheeled himself over to the landline valley as Marlene'd dubbed it, "The hotline," he grumbled and picked up an ancient stationary phone, "Bobby Singer, who's callin'?" Whatever the caller had said got Bobby's attention, "Oh yeah? What're you thinking?...."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Do you still need it?" Sam turned to Marlene, who was already engrossed in another book.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">So engrossed, she startled at his deep voice, "Huh?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"The Revelations?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, are you already done with it?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, no, but if you need it..."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean made a face. <em>Jesus</em></span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Em, not really, I found another lead </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p4">Bobby rolled back into the living room, broody. He'd been like that ever since they arrived three days ago, and if Dean had to wager a wild guess, he'd say it was because of the wheelchair the old man was now stuck in. It would probably take Bobby a while to get used to it: both to the wheelchair and to the fact that he could no longer be in the field, "Well, I've got a possible job for ya, boys."</p><p class="p4">"Thank god," Dean breathed, "Is it vampires? I'm feelin' kinda stabby."</p><p class="p4">"Nah, It's somethin' else. But I bet you're gonna like it."</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p8"> </p><p class="p4"><span class="s5">Dean drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of an AC/DC song, hot Georgian air streaming through the open window. Man, was he happy to be back on the road </span>— being cooped up in the house with Bobby's constant brooding and Sam and Marlene's freshman foreplay was slowly but surely driving him insane. Especially since whenever he looked at them, he saw a little guy with hazel eyes who couldn't shut about about dinosaurs. How the hell did the two of them go from <em>that</em> to making a kid?</p><p class="p4">"What?"</p><p class="p4">Dean realised he was staring and turned his eyes back on the road ahead, "Huh?"</p><p class="p4">"You okay?"</p><p class="p4">"Are <em>you</em> okay?" he bristled childishly. Sam sent him a quizzical frown but decided not to get into it and just shook his head.</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s4">No, Dean hadn't told him about 2014. He <em>wanted</em> to, perhaps, he even <em>had</em> to, but how would he even go about it?</span>
  <span class="s1"> "<em>Hey, Sammy, guess what: you got a kid, but you're sorta out of service and the Devil wants to be the step dad?</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"So," he ventured after some silence, glancing over at Sam, "What's the deal with you and Marlene?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What do you mean?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Dean gave him <em>the</em> look. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"There's no deal, Dean."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean snorted, "Yeah, <em>sure</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">A pause. <em>One...two...three...</em>His phone started ringing. Dean glanced at the caller ID and smiled a shit-eating grin, "Your girlfriend's calling." Sam only sighed at the elementary-school jape, "Hey, what's up?" Dean answered. </span>
</p><p class="p4"><span class="s5">"<em>Hey, sorry for calling </em></span><em>— are you guys there yet?</em>"</p><p class="p4">Dean frowned, "Yeah, almost. Everything alright?" Sam sent him a questioning look, which he returned with a shrug.</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Oh, yeah, all's good. I'm just...kinda worried about Bobby,</em>" Marley spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. Dean heard a door creak </span>
  <span class="s4">— she must've gone into another room. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What do you mean?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>He's been shooting stuff outside for two hours," </em>and sure enough, there was a remote sound of a gun blasting away,"<em> I think if I go out to talk, he'll shoot me too.</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1"><em>Dammit, Bobby</em>, "Just, uh...leave him. He'll come 'round." Sam raised his brows in question. Dean mouthed <em>'Bobby'</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Al...right, will do,</em>" she sounded rather sceptical about it.</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Found any leads yet?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Nope, nothing. It's kinda strange how quiet things have been lately, you know?</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"From your mouth to Lucy's idle hands." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Well, with my sick aim, I don't think we've got anything to worry about." </em></span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean laughed, "Alright, kid, watch the old man, yeah? We'll check in later." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"What did she say?" Sam asked as soon as Dean hung up the phone. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Who, your girlfriend?" A blank stare. "Bobby's been throwing a hissy fit. She's worried." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">When Sam didn't add anything else to his meaningful reply, Dean looked over at him. Sure enough, his brother was in throes of violent overthinking. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam sighed,"I was a jerk to her." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No surprise there." He sent Dean a glare, "Hey, <em>relax</em>. I'm sure you'll sort things out. It couldn't have been that bad if she's still talking to you."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No, that's not it. It's </span>
  <span class="s4">—</span>
  <span class="s1">" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean looked over at his brother, catching the familiar note of torment in his voice, "What is it?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"I...I saw him again, Dean."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Lucifer?" Dean asked, brows drawn together in concern. Sam nodded, "What did the bastard want?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam looked away for a moment to collect his thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, "It wasn't him. Not exactly. It was...<em>her</em>. Marlene."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean's brows shot up. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it, eyes going wide with a disturbing realisation, "Did you?..."</span>
</p><p class="p4"><span class="s5">"No </span>— Jesus, Dean!"</p><p class="p4">He shrugged noncommittally, "Stranger things have happened."</p><p class="p4">"But it was — it was so real. Seeing Marlene now...is, well — it's a little bit unsettling."</p><p class="p4">"So that's why you were playing naked and afraid back there?"</p><p class="p4">"I wasn't — " Sam broke off, realising he was fighting a losing battle, "I just don't understand what he wants with her."</p><p class="p4">"And you don't trust she won't buy into his bad boy charms?" </p><p class="p4">"I <em>want</em> to believe that."</p><p class="p4">"Well, Sammy," Dean sighed, "Welcome to the club."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Sam cut his brother a frustrated glare and turned away to the window, muttering a nearly audible "<em>yeah</em>".Dean knew there was a lot he wasn't telling him. But the defensiveness in Sam's voice and the ridiculously flustered look on his face that was reminiscent of his freshman year in high school were enough for Dean to don a smug smile. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Hey," Sam said after some time, "When I told you about Marlene </span>
  <span class="s4">— why didn't you freak out?" </span>
</p><p class="p4">Dean cleared his throat, "Dunno. I just figured we could use all the people who're willing to help, you know?"</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Dean thought back to the little boy with his brother's eyes, and a strange feeling of calm washed over him. No matter what happened, at least there's some good to come out of this mess.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p6">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Bobby decidedly despised Marlene for staying behind. Even though she'd tried to tell him it was for her own safety since she was a total liability on the road, he insisted he didn't need a babysitter and he could shit all on his own, thank you very much. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley could tell he was disgruntled. Even more than usual. She had an inkling it was because of the new case, something about a twenty-seven-year-old guy dropping dead from an old age. She could see the stubborn pain in Bobby's eyes as he watched Sam and Dean drive away. She felt bad for him. </span>
</p><p class="p4"><span class="s5">A man like Bobby, who'd spent the better part of his life on the road, fighting evil and helping people </span>— it couldn't have been easy to stay behind. Knowing that you could no longer do the one thing that made sense, stripped to a wheelchair, never to walk again.</p><p class="p4">Marley wanted to talk to him about it, but every time she breeched the subject, Bobby's glare did well to shut her up. So she just sat there in unnerving silence, throwing occasional worried glances at him, and tried read a book on Occultism in Nazism. She remembered her dad giving the talk on the subject about 5 years ago — it had been a pretty fascinating lecture. The Nazis were absolutely beguiled by the glory of days past, myths and old orders, not unlike that of the Templars, who'd brought the Holy Grail back from the Holy Land to Europe. Maybe that would give her some clues on the whereabouts of the other pieces of the emerald and why her great grandfather had been looking for it in the first place?</p><p class="p4">"What's that you're reading?" Bobby asked, voice tinged with suspicion.</p><p class="p4">"Nazis," Marley said casually and flipped over the page.</p><p class="p4">Before Bobby could say anything else, his phone started ringing, "Yeah?" he answered, "Thought so. Any other stiffs in town?...Anythin' else?" Marlene perked up, listening in. "Well, check them out. Call it a hunch." She noticed Bobby's face go from mildly bored to dangerously irritated, "<em>Doing?</em> Oh, you mean my legs?" at that, he cut her a furious stare. Marley stuck her nose in the book, guileless, like she hadn't talked to Dean an hour ago and told him all about Bobby's existential crises, "Well, I'm just weeping in my Haagen-Dazs. Idjit," the old man muttered and hung up the phone.</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Bobby </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p4">"Watch the landline," he grumbled and rolled out of the room to wallow in solitude.</p><p class="p4">Marlene couldn't fault him for that, but she was starting to feel restless like she had during her house arrest back in Cambridge. Only back then there wasn't an angry glaring man who was pissed at her for lying and being an overbearing worrywart. Just a regular ego-maniac with a penchant for destroying the world for his personal agenda.</p><p class="p4">With a sigh so tortured it bore the weight of two millennia's worth of intergenerational trauma, Marley rose from the couch and trudged to the kitchen. She desperately wanted a glass of whiskey, but since it was only noon and she liked to think that all was not lost just yet, she opted for a glass of water instead.</p><p class="p4">Marlene grabbed a glass from the cupboard and came over to the sink to fill it when she saw a movement behind the window blinds. It was swift, like a barely perceptible blip, and had they not been on the brink of the Apocalypse, Marley would've likely brushed it off. Wary, she leaned closer to the window and looked through a slit in the blinds — the backyard was perfectly deserted.</p><p class="p4">"Tsk, bad form, Marls."</p><p class="p4">The glass fell right into the sink and her heart all but sank into her stomach. She had to grip the counter with both hands to steady herself, "Holy — " Marlene whipped around, "What the <em>fuck</em>, Gabriel?"</p><p class="p4">The archangel stood leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed. The same shiny golden hair and a jolly glimmer in the eye like he hadn't just scared her half to death.</p><p class="p4">"How — why? What do you want?" Marley's irritation quickly grew into panic, "You can't be here. Bobby — "</p><p class="p4">Gabriel grinned, "Is gone."</p><p class="p4">A pause. "<em>What? </em>What did you do?"</p><p class="p4">"Nothing, he left a couple minutes ago," the angel told her nonchalantly and opened the refrigerator, "Do you have anything to eat?"</p><p class="p4">It took Marley a moment to grasp what he'd just said, "Where'd he go?"</p><p class="p4">"I think you know where."</p><p class="p4"><em>Fucking</em> <em>—</em> <em>crap</em>. She literally had <em>one</em> job and she'd failed it. She couldn't even stop a man who couldn't walk from leaving the house. She couldn't shoot a can. Couldn't save Tessa. Or her father from his self-destructive spiral of pure evil. What she could do, though, was take out all the pent-up frustration on the celestial creature who was responsible for her pitiful existence.</p><p class="p4">"What the hell are you doing here?" she stormed past him into the living room, half-expecting Bobby to be in the study,"I didn't call for you — why did you come?"</p><p class="p4">"Saw all that stuff on the telly," Gabriel closed the fridge, clearly disappointed, and looked back at Marley, "Gotta say, Marls — I'm impressed. All that fame? You know, you got that from me, that <em>magnetism</em>. You could totally make in on the big screen, you've got it."</p><p class="p4">Marlene found that whenever Gabriel opened his mouth, her brain seemed to shut itself down or simply refused to process the received information. It put her into a state of complete puzzlement and incredulity.</p><p class="p4">"You told me not to call," she said, voice monotonous.</p><p class="p4">"And see how well you did all on your own!" Marley glared at him. Gabriel sighed in defeat, "Your dad annoyed me into checking up on you."</p><p class="p4">At that, her anger completely dissipated. Well, almost, "You talked to him? Is he alright? Did he —"</p><p class="p4">"He's <em>fine</em>. You, on the other hand..." he gave the clattered living room a suggestive once-over.</p><p class="p4">"Is he still with Zachariah?"</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yup," Gabriel popped and picked up one of the books on the table, "Reading up on the Grail, huh? So your dad told you about my brother's little trinket?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene's heart pumped with excitement, "You mean the emerald? You know something about it?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Please</em>," Gabriel scoffed, "I was the one who found that piece your padre bartered for a sweet spot in Heaven."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Wait, so..." Marley frowned, "my great grandfather didn't find it?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Of course not. 'Twas all yours truly," Gabriel said proudly, "Had to pull some strings, but eventually, a friendly god pointed me in the right direction."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"A...god?" she deadpanned. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"You didn't think there was just one, did you? Anyways, found the one, the other three, though," Gabriel trailed off, "Beats me. One thing for sure </span>
  <span class="s4">— they ain't here."</span>
</p><p class="p4">"As in, not on earth?"</p><p class="p4">"Ah, the smarts you got from your uncle."</p><p class="p4">Marlene ignored the jape, "But why...why look for them in the first place? What do they even do?"</p><p class="p4">Gabriel stilled for a second, eyes narrowed. Then put the book he was scanning through back on the table and gave Marley a surprised look, "He didn't tell you?" She shook her head slowly, "The thing's stupidly powerful, Marls. A single piece can crack an infernal cage open. The entire rock?" The angel raised his eyebrows, "Can break a <em>curse</em>."</p><p class="p4">
  <em>Heaven's doors are closed to us, so are the Gates of Hell. Where go our souls? It is clear to me now that two cannot live until one is no more. Such is the balance. Such is the curse.</em>
</p><p class="p4">So that's why her great grandfather Felix had been looking for it — he'd been trying to find a way to save them from the inevitable fate. All of them.</p><p class="p4">For a moment, Marley caught a glimpse of the brighter future, filled with hope. But then she remembered that her father'd squandered the one piece they actually had. Which didn't really change anything since the two other bits weren't even in the same hemisphere as her.</p><p class="p4">"So, what, all you need to do is put the emerald back together and we can all die in peace?"</p><p class="p4">"Oh, no," Gabriel shook his head, "There's shitload of other stuff to do."</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marley frowned. Of course it wouldn't be so easy, "Like what?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"No idea."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Excuse me? You an <em>archangel</em>."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah, well, my dad's got a flare for paranoia," Gabriel told her, offended, "Some things even I don't know."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"But there <em>is</em> a way, right?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, yeah. For sure."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"And how do you know that?"</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Because my dad never does anything without the reverse button. Everything he creates, he can <em>un</em>create. Or sent to the pits of hell. There's always's a loophole."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," Marley said slowly, "Then where would one look for it? It's not like there's a manual." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The glee in Gabriel's eyes was positively mischievous, "Oh, Marls. Marls, Marls, Marls."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">Marlene wanted to yell at him to stop using the ridiculous name, but decided to show some restraint. She needed him to cooperate. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Is there something you wish to share with the class, Gabriel?" Marley asked, her sweet voice laced with unmistakable passive-aggression. </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">The angel considered her question, "No, not really. You're not there yet." </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Are you kidding me?" </span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">He grinned, "Maybe. But there again, maybe not."</span>
</p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">"Gabriel </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p4">"Find the missing pieces. Then we talk."</p><p class="p4">"But — "</p><p class="p4">"Have fun, Marls," Gabriel winked, "And don't do anything I wouldn't do. Cause it would be really boring." And just like that, the celestial pain in the ass disappeared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Lady Things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 21 / Lady Things</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Make him the cutest that I've ever seen</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Give him the word that I'm not a rover</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Mr Sandman, The Chordettes</p><hr/><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene was seven years old when her grandmother died. </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">Ophelia Ter-Gabrielyan </span>was a statuesque woman with a striking biography — she'd lived the life of an adventurer, a risk-taker, a passionate feminist, a researcher, a historian. Unfortunately, Marley learned all those things about her grandmother many years after her death. At seven, however, she knew only an old woman stuck in a nursing home.</p><p class="p6">Ophelia's long silver hair was secured into a thick braid and pinned atop her head, her once sparkling coal-black eyes serene with emptiness. She would always sit in a chair by the window that overlooked the forest, her sharp features mellowed by her old age and the malady that had rendered her brilliant mind all but blank.</p><p class="p6">Arthur visited his mother every Sunday. He rarely brought Marlene with him, but when he did, she'd sit on Ophelia's bed and simply watch her wrinkled, still face. At first, Marley was spooked by the strange old woman who never spoke a word, but the fear soon grew into curiosity — what was her grandmother thinking about? Sometimes Marlene'd see a corner of her thin, wrinkled mouth lift just a little, a flicker of her old self seeping back into her features. It was always so fleeting, however. Maybe Marley imagined it.</p><p class="p6">Arthur never said a word to Ophelia and neither did Marlene — it seemed strangely redundant, as though their presence alone said all that needed to be said. They would stay for an hour, and then her father would take Marley by the hand and say, "Come on, honey, your grandmother needs to rest." Marlene always thought it was strange — all the woman did was sit in a chair, why would she be tired?</p><p class="p6">She became more curious with each visit, and as she got bold enough to sit closer to Ophelia, Marley finally noticed the green pendant on her chest.</p><p class="p6">"It's so pretty," she said in awe, reaching for the shiny stone. Her small finger almost touched the bumpy surface when suddenly, Arthur's hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. Marley hissed from pain, her eyes going wide wide with betrayal as she looked up at her father.</p><p class="p6">"You shouldn't touch it, Marlene," he told her. He'd never spoken to her like that before, and Marlene decided she didn't like it. And so she refused to speak to him on the ride home and for the entire day to follow.</p><p class="p6">After that visit, Marley would always sit close to her grandmother if only to look at the pretty trinket. There wasn't a day that Ophelia wasn't wearing it, the impressive emerald glowing from the perfectly pressed collar of her shirt.</p><p class="p6">The only time Marlene didn't see it was on her peaceful form in the casket. She watched it being lowered into the ground and thought how sad Ophelia must've been to be without the trinket she'd loved so much. All alone, underneath meters of dirt and earth, in complete darkness. Marley'd cried then and clung to to her father's side, burying her face in his black trench coat as he hugged her closer. Arthur didn't cry — he was too strong for that. Or, in hindsight, it could've been indifference. He accepted condolences like he did his many awards, his black hair perfectly sleek, his smile just mournful enough.</p><p class="p6">The cemetery was almost deserted, but for the workers who'd started filling the grave, her father and two strange people he was talking to. It was an old man with downey silver hair and a woman about his age on his arm. The man wasn't looking at his father, or anywhere, really — his <span class="s2">eyes were completely blank. Marley stared at him until he finally looked in her general direction, causing the little girl to blush in embarrassment. </span></p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Noticing the man's attention shift, Arthur turned back and gestured Marlene to join them. She did, trudging up to her dad with her head hung low, "This is my daughter," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "Marlene." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The woman gave her a gentle smile, "Hello, Marlene. I'm really sorry about your grandmother." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley nodded, too shy to say anything. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Pleasure to meet you, Marlene," said the old man, reaching out a hand. Marlene stiffed, glancing at it warily. After a moment's hesitation, she shook it. It felt warm and calloused, the grip a bit too tight. Slightly unsettled, Marley's eyes flickered up to the man's face and she saw his wrinkles deepening into a frown. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Mr Ganem?" Arthur called, tensing. Marley tried to pry her hand away and stumbled a little when the old man finally let go. The woman, who Marlene supposed was his wife, suddenly looked very anxious. "Thank you for coming. We appreciate it," Arthur nodded curtly. With that, he led Marley away. </span>
</p><p class="p6">"Who was that, dad?" she asked in a small voice as they were walking to the car.</p><p class="p6">"An old friend of your grandfather's," he replied dismissively.</p><p class="p6">Marlene looked back one last time and saw the old man staring in her general direction. She quickly drew her eyes away and got into the car.</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">"Ah, hi, Sam. Would you please tell your brother to use his goddamn phone? Also Bobby's kind of gone. Shit, not like that </span>— I mean, he <em>left</em>. Physically. And <span class="s2">I think he's coming to Statesborough?... Beats me how, the freaking Lightening McQueen, but he escaped, and I know I'm a terrible warden, and I'm sorry </span>— please tell me if he got there okay, I'm really worried. Call me back when you hear something. Also, sorry if that's — whatever, just call me, alright?" A pause, "It's Marlene, by the way. 'Kay, bye." Marley ended the call with a look of utter disappointment in her social skills.</p><p class="p6">She was pretty used to crises — her student life was filled with them. No, her student life a one big crisis in itself: juggling deadlines, TA responsibilities and exams had been one hell of a feat, but nothing could've prepared her for <em>this</em>. It's like she was having a jolly good time juggling three apples, and some prick decided to throw in a couple more, and the next thing Marley knew she was on the ground buried underneath an entire mountain of Granny Smiths. Just to lift the veil of mystery, it was Gabriel. Gabriel was the prick.</p><p class="p6">He was like a damned mosquito: appearing out of nowhere, buzzing relentlessly in your year, draining you dry and leaving a nasty bite that gave you an itch for days. In Marley's case, the itch could potentially lead to a very unwise decision that would end in yet another crisis. Why was she surrounded by nutjobs?</p><p class="p6">Her father lied to her. <em>Again</em>. One could argue that he hadn't — how could he have if he hadn't said anything about the emerald in the first place? It must've slipped his mind. Or maybe, just maybe he knew nothing about its curse-breaking qualities.</p><p class="p6">Oh, but Marlene knew the man better than anyone else even though she <em>had</em> missed a couple of red flags along the way — which one could simply attribute to him being a good actor, something Marley already knew, as well. No, Arthur hadn't forgotten, since he rarely ever forgot anything at all. That man could hold a mean grudge — Marlene had learned it the hard way in her teenage years. Arthur'd never grounded her, but boy if he hadn't brought up every single one of her transgressions, no matter how petty, during every single time they'd had an argument.</p><p class="p6">So, yes, Marlene knew why Arthur'd kept that a secret from her. He was desperate to make her believe in his deplorable plan and presenting their overpriced ticket to Heaven as the only way to escape the mysteriously terrifying afterlife was the best chance to talk her into it. Because if he'd told her there was another way out, one that didn't involve them and millions of people dying, he wouldn't be able to play the "desperate madman" card anymore. The thought made Marlene want to drive all the way to Cambridge, Zachariah be damned, and sock Arthur in his pathetic, manipulative mug. And to think she actually looked up to him...</p><p class="p6"><em>As if Zachariah is going to keep his promise</em>, Marlene scoffed. Yes, he couldn't kill them for the fear of Gabriel's wrath <em>now</em>, but as soon as Michael was suited up...this power duo would be unstoppable. Marley highly doubted that the infamous archangel would take it easy on them, since he'd very likely voted 'yay' for cursing their entire bloodline in the first place. So it was just a matter of time before the both of them were blasted off the face of the earth either by the angels or by the good old Apocalypse. It was a lose-lose situation.</p><p class="p6">Marlene needed to find another solution, in case Sam and Dean failed to save the world. Even though she was a glass-half-full kind of girl, sometimes she had to admit that it was fucking empty, man up and refill it.</p><p class="p6">"Castiel," Marley called, sitting on the couch, surrounded by mountains of books and a sea of useless notes, "I know you're really busy tracking...God," she needed a pause after saying this sentence out loud, "But I need to talk to you, because...Well, 'cause things are shit," Marlene shrugged in a very resigned manner, "And I — I think you might make them less shit for me? Just...Jesus, can you please do that? I promise I won't take long —"</p><p class="p6">"You want me to deal with shit?" a puzzled voice came from the hallway. Marley lifted her eyes from her intertwined fingers and met Castiel's confused slits.</p><p class="p6">She blinked, "You came."</p><p class="p6">"You called for me," he reminded her.</p><p class="p6">"Well, yeah, but — " Marley rose from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously, "I didn't expect you'd actually <em>show up</em>. Not that fast, anyway."</p><p class="p6">Castiel regarded her with a slight tilt of his head; like a golden retriever, "You sounded rather desperate."</p><p class="p6">Marlene let out a self-deprecating snort, "That's because I am," she leaned against the table stacked with Sam's scribbles. His handwriting was hilarious, "So, how's...God?"</p><p class="p6">"I don't know," Castiel...grumbled? "I haven't located him yet." Marlene'd never heard him quite so aggravated before, "Why did you call me, Marlene?"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Ah, to be called by your name and not an abomination. They'd truly come a long way. "You know about the emerald, right?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Castiel frowned, "The emerald?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Lucifer's emerald. The one that fell from his crown and cracked into three pieces?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">He pursed his lips grimly, "The one Zachariah used to free Lilith." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Do you know if he still has it?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I don't know. It could've been destroyed </span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p6">"But you're not sure, right?"</p><p class="p6">Castiel's face assumed the usual look of confusion, "I suppose I'm not."</p><p class="p6">"A-and...and do you know where the other two pieces are?" Marley was pacing the room now, her lower lip a bloody mess. Castiel watched her, brows furrowed in concern, "My father said they were scattered around the earth, but <em>Gabriel</em>...Gabriel told me they weren't even in this plane of existence," Marlene realised she sounded like a madwoman, but she was too far gone to do anything about it, "Do you have any idea where they could possibly be?"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I </span>
  <span class="s3">— </span>
  <span class="s1">angels don't talk about it. The stone is considered to be cursed with the markings of the greatest sin, I have only heard whispers..."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"What whispers?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Marlene </span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p6">"<em>What whispers?</em>"</p><p class="p6">Castiel sighed. Marley realised he looked rather worn out. She didn't know angels could be tired, "When Lucifer fell, the stone cracked. One piece remained on earth, another he took with him to hell. And the third..." Marlene urged him to continue with a raise of her eyebrows, "...the third was lost in-between."</p><p class="p6">She frowned, "In-between? What...like a purgatory?"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"It is just a myth, Marlene."</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">"No-no, I get it, I </span>— " the ringer on Marley's phone suddenly went off. Dazed, she picked it up from the table. <em>Shit</em>, "Hello?"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Marlene,</em>" Sam breathed in relief, "<em>Are you alright?</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She scratched the back of her head, glancing at Castiel, "Yeah, totally </span>
  <span class="s3">— wait, did Bobby get there? Is he okay?"</span>
</p><p class="p6">There was a suspiciously long pause, "<em>Uh, he did, yeah. He is...doing great.</em>"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Thank <em>God</em>. Wherever he is," she muttered, "Any luck cracking the case?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">There was a commotion on the other line: a door opened and someone started arguing, "<em>We're getting there</em>," Sam told her, clearly distracted by whatever was going on, "<em>Uh, listen, Marlene, I gotta go. You sure everything's alright?</em>" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Peachy." <em>God, peachy?</em></span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Okay. Well, um, talk later?</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She nodded even though he couldn't really see it. For some reason, things between her and Sam had become ever more awkward than before, "Sure. Bye, Sam." Marlene knew he needed time to get over what'd happened on their road trip, but she thought they'd reached a common ground. A friendly ground. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Why do you look like that?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene shot Castiel a glare, "Like what?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Angry and sad." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She puffed out a breath and plopped down on the couch, "Oh, Castiel. I wish humans were as frustratingly honest as you."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"They would have to be without sin," the angel told her, solemn. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley quirked a brow, "So you're without sin?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I am an angel of the Lord."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You didn't answer my question." Probably because he hadn't understood it, "Being holy doesn't mean you're sinless. I mean, look at the church </span>
  <span class="s3">— the holiest and probably the most corrupt institution on the planet."</span>
</p><p class="p6">Castiel seemed fascinated by that fact, "It is?"</p><p class="p6">"Uh-huh, big time. Always has been. Plus, <em>Zachariah</em> is an angel and you wanna tell me he isn't a sinner?" Marley scoffed, "Ticked a few deadly ones off the list, that's for sure. And Gabriel..." she trailed off. It was too obvious a point to explain. "And for the fear of being struck down by the hand of divine justice, I don't think that God is without sin either," she confessed, "Which kinda makes him more relatable, when you think about it. All PR is good PR, right?"</p><p class="p6">Castiel was deep in thought. It seemed Marley's words had struck a cord with him — the sin was a mundane concept to angels, an elaborate grade system to determined who went up and who plummeted down to the deepest caverns of hell. Castiel used to be so sure of that system, it had never really occurred to him it could be corrupted.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Castiel?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I will try to find out what became of the emerald," he suddenly announced.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley was slightly taken aback, "You will?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," the angel nodded, resolute, "I will contact you when I have any information."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Thank you, Castiel. I..." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Marlene, next time, make sure not to use the angel frequency. Zachariah might be looking for any traces of the energy, it could lead him to you," Castiel fumbled in the pockets of his trench coat under Marley's puzzled stare. Finally, he took out a small, shabby Nokia, "You can call me." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene grinned cockily, "Are you asking for my number?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," the angel replied without a beat.</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">She rolled her eyes and snatched the phone out of his hands. There was only one contact </span>— <b>DEAN</b>, and now Marlene's name was right beneath it. "Here," she gave him the phone back, "Call me anytime."</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," Castiel nodded somewhat quizzically, "Goodbye, Marlene."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">She cracked a smile, "Goodbye, Castiel." </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">Dean was a pain in the ass. Which was okay </span>— it was his MO, and Sam had gotten used to it over the years. But nothing, not even two decades's worth of traversing the great US of A together stuck in the same old car could've prepared Sam for Dean's inner Hugh Hefner emerging. Although, admittedly, it was much less Playboy mansion and more a cranky seventy-year-old geezer.</p><p class="p6">Currently, Dean was eating a salad Sam had brought with him from a diner. He stabbed a cherry tomato with impressive violence and stared at its impaled form, having a full-on existential crisis. Probably wishing it was a medium-rare steak.</p><p class="p6">Sam's mouth twitched as he glanced over at him, <span class="s2">"How's the salad?" </span></p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean dropped the fork into the takeout box, "I'd rather have a stroke," he grumbled and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. It was probably the back again.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well, give it a year." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean cut him a deadly glare, "Was that Marlene you were just talking to?" he met Sam's narrowed eyes with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes," Sam replied off-handedly, rearranging kale in his own salad. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean was enjoying it way too much, "How's she doing?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, I guess." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You guess?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright, quit squabbling like two damn teenage girls," Bobby cut in, rolling closer to the table, "We got plenty on our plate as is." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Speak for yourself," Dean mumbled, glancing at his salad with pure disgust. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam sighed, "She sounded alright. A bit freaked out about Bobby taking off," he said, looking right at the culprit. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Whatcha starin' at me, boy? I couldn't just sit around on my ass all day being freakin' wet-nursed." </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">"Well, technically </span>— " Dean piped up.</p><p class="p6">Bobby levelled him with a stare. Dean cleared his throat and resumed silently glaring at his food, "I'm tellin' you, that girl is one hell of a nervous Nellie. Worse than my own mother," Bobby muttered, then quieted down for a moment, "Do you two trust her?"</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Both Dean and Sam stilled for a moment. They exchanged a brief look, thinking back to the conversation they'd had on the way here. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I trust her."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam threw Dean a suspicious look, "Since when are you on Marlene bandwagon?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Since when are you <em>not</em>?" It was a dirty move and Dean knew it. Sam's nostrils flared ever so slightly, lips curled into a reserved snarl. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Bobby watched the exchange with a confused frown. He didn't bother to get into it, "Okay, listen. That girl's been around the house for a good few days," Bobby told them, "She might be a wack job with the worst luck I've ever seen, but she ain't got a bad bone in her body. She's got as much reason to hate the winged bastards as we do and she isn't chummy with demons, so that ain't a problem," Sam looked away, contrite, "And whatever deal her father has goin' with Zachariah...I don't think she's in on it." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Bobby was right. There was no darkness in Marlene, only the light. She was clean, unlike Sam. Unlike any of them.<em> "Thoughts pass, Sam. No feeling is final. It's if you act on them that matters." </em>Her words rang through Sam's memory. Marley'd given him the benefit of the doubt back when they hadn't really known each other. She was the only person who'd trusted him and accepted his choice for what it was without any judgement. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene was the only person who could understand what he was going through. Perhaps, that's why he kept pushing her away </span>
  <span class="s3">— </span>
  <span class="s1">she was too much like him. Too much like the person he wished he could''ve been </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">Sam was a dick. Which was okay </span>— Dean would say it was his MO.</p><p class="p6">He'd probably be right.</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Bobby's house was creepy. It reminded Marlene of these remote cabins that usually ended up being slaughter houses for horny teenagers in slashers. And although Marley was no longer a teenager and definitely not horny, she felt like she'd get Texas Chainsaw'd the minute she closed her eyes. That is to say, sleep evaded her. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The combination of being in a house filled with all sorts of cursed objects and being in that house <em>alone</em> made Marley remember the good old days when she was scared of a sneaky monster under her bed. And if twenty years ago that monster was nothing but a figment of her wild imagination, these days it could very well be literal. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Ah, fear was exhausting. And so was overthinking, and together, the two made for one hell of a torturous pair. <em>"</em></span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>One piece remained on earth, another he took with him to hell. And the third...the third was lost in-between."</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">Marlene couldn't stop thinking about Castiel's words — they were the first real clue she'd got, what with her father's lies and Gabriel's constant riddles that left her absolutely bewildered. Bewildered and enraged.</p><p class="p6">Now she knew that one piece of the emerald was most likely in Zachariah's possession and another...was in hell. Marley had no plans to visit anytime soon, so she needed to find another way in, someone on the inside —</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Good friends are like stars</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>You don't always see them </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>But you know they're always there</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>No</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">She wanted to give herself a slap for even considering that. Reaching out to a slimy, opportunistic midget of a demon? And they say the best ideas come at night </span>— what an absolute scam. Marlene'd have to be dying from despair to do that, and even then she'd wait until the other option was gruesome death. Then, and only <em>then</em> would Marley consider seeking help from the silver-tongued bastard. She might've been more positively inclined..<em>.had he not framed her for murder and got her arrested</em>. Oh, and there was the matter of selling — sorry — <em>lending</em> her soul to the King of <em>literal </em>deals with the Devil. Yes, Marlene had done her reading. She was diligent like that.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s3">Annoyed at herself, Marley turned to her side, face meeting the perfectly cold surface of the pillow. Well, at least things weren't completely terrible. </span>
  <span class="s1">There were only so many negative life scenarios her mind could take, and at some point, Marlene's body decided it'd had enough. The stubborn thoughts relented, and she dozed off into a slumber. However, peaceful it was not. </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Everything around her was black. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>At first, Marlene thought she'd woken up in the dark room and needed to give her eyes some time to adjust. But time passed, and yet...everything remained the same. There was neither left, nor right; neither up, nor down; neither light, nor darkness </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>— it was complete and unadulterated nothingness. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>"Hello?" Marley called out, her voice echoing through the boundless abyss. She could hear distant sounds of music; muted and old, as though coming from an antique record player. It sounded just like her father's, the one he'd played every evening when Marlene went to bed. She'd listen to Frankie Laine's muffled voice coming from Arthur's study, lulling her to sleep. Now it was anything but. </em>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>Marlene walked forward — but was there even a forward? This place had no sense of space or time. It just...was. </em>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>"Is anybody here?" her voice trembled. She tried to stay on the move, hoping to see a glimmer of light in the infinite darkness. Hoping that maybe there was an end to it, after all. But as Marlene continued her trip into oblivion, she began to realise that there </em>
  <b>
    <em>was</em>
  </b>
  <em> no end. Just like there hadn't been a beginning.</em>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>Children's laughter rang through the music. Marley whirled around, glancing to her left, to her right — where had it come from? "Who did that?" her heart was hammering in her chest. Another giggle and hurried steps. But from where? "Stop that!" A thunder clapped in the wake of her yell. Shaken, Marlene looked up, expecting wet droplets of rain, but there was no rain. Just the sound of it pelting against a window. Thump, thump, thump...</em>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Was the music...getting louder? Spurred by the discovery, Marlene quickened her step, listening carefully to the 40s tune. The sound seemed to be getting closer and closer, no longer muffled, a faint light in the distance indicating that Marley was on the right track. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Mr Sandman, bring me a dream </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Make him the cutest that I've ever seen</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Marlene stopped.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Give him two lips, like roses and clover </em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>And tell him that his lonesome nights are over</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The song was coming from an old gramophone, its golden cylinder shining in the light that spilled from...above it? But there was nothing </em>
  </span>
  <span class="s3">
    <em>— </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">—<em>the record jammed, letting out a screeching sound. Marley winced. The song started anew. </em></p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">
  <em>The record played from a small stand of dark wood. By it, sat a man. His was slouched in a wooden chair, his back to Marlene. Was he asleep? Something in the black hair and the burgundy sweater he was wearing made her chest ache. Slowly, her steps painfully small, Marley walked to the gramophone and lifted the needle, halting the song. </em>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Now, there was just rain and the sound of her heart pounding. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p6">
  <span class="s2">
    <em>With a trembling hand, Marlene reached for the man's shoulder. It stopped right above the soft, woollen fabric of his sweater </em>
  </span>
  <em>— she let out a shaky breath, her lower lip quivering from fear. Finally, Marley's fingers touched the man's shoulder and she gently shook it, urging him awake. But then his head lolled back, revealing two gaping, burned out holes on his face. </em>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>Her scream was the only thing she could hear. "No! Dad — " </em>
</p><p class="p6">
  <em>Before Marlene felt a presence right behind her, a body pressed flush against her back, warm breath tickling the skin of her neck. "</em>
  <b>
    <em>Boo</em>
  </b>
  <em>."</em>
</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene stopped the car. She stayed in the driver's seat for a couple of minutes, hands firmly clutching the steering wheel. Breath in, breath out. Was she really going to do this? </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It was early morning, the sky still bearing the reddish traces of the dawn laced with pale purple. It would've been beautiful, picturesque even, had Marley had a wink of sleep the night before. Had she not woken up screaming, her father's lifeless face imprinted in her memory. Had she not stumbled out of bed with the first rays of sunshine and rummaged through Bobby's cabinets. Had she not driven to the cemetery for dirt.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Had she not been parked in front of a crossroad. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"This is stupid," Marlene whispered and finally got out of the car, grabbing a box from the passenger seat.</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">She walked around and opened the truck to retrieve a shovel. Marley had no idea how to man that thing </span>— she wasn't even sure she'd have the strength to do it, but she'd try. She'd do anything for that dream to never become reality.</p><p class="p6">A half hour later, covered in sweat and dirt, Marlene was staring at the highly unimpressive hole in the ground. Luckily, it was just hollow enough to fit the box that contained all the necessary ingredients: a black cat's bone, graveyard dirt and her fake ID.</p><p class="p6">She didn't know how they operated down there, but hoped that as the King of Crossroads, Crowley had dibs on all the deals being made. He knew her fake name, Marlene was sure of it — now she only hoped that it was him who'd show up.</p><p class="p6">Making sure the box was properly buried (even summoning a demon had to be executed to perfection), Marlene stepped away and spoke the incantation, "<em>Te invoco a profundus inferni.</em>" Ah, her Latin professor would've been ecstatic that she was actually putting that language to use.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Honestly, Marley didn't know what she was expecting. The score from the Jaws? Infernal flames blasting from the depth of the earth? Phantom of the Opera aria? She was sure something had to happen. Only...it didn't. Given, Castiel had appeared with no preamble too, but at least he had been quick about it. Alright, maybe demons were just lazy. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Confused, Marlene took out the note from her jacket and checked if she'd got the incantation right </span>
  <span class="s3">— and of <em>course</em> she had. Then what was the problem? <em>The ID</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p6">"Shit," Marley hissed. She didn't know they were so strict about it down there. Now she felt like a freshman trying to get a Long Island on her nineteenth birthday. Still a mystery why the bartender hadn't believed that her name was Rosalinda Buchachos.</p><p class="p6">Anxiety-ridden and sleep-deprived, Marlene walked over to the buried box. She crouched down to get it out, but before she could get her hands dirty, she was staring at a pair of shiny black leather shoes.</p><p class="p6">"My, my," a smug voice drawled, "I believe I was offering my friendship, but if you insist..."</p><p class="p6">It was a miracle Marlene didn't stumble and fall on her way up. Once she was on her feet again, though, she could glower at him from a safe distance. God, she loathed how red her face had become.</p><p class="p6">"I didn't want to do this."</p><p class="p6">Crowley shrugged, "We all have our regrets."</p><p class="p6">"Why did you come?"</p><p class="p6">"Isn't that what friends do?" he wondered innocently.</p><p class="p6">Marlene narrowed her eyes. Crowley returned the suspicious squint with a patient, jovial smile. Almost as though he'd expected her to summon him...For a moment Marlene thought he might've planted that nightmare in her head, only she knew perfectly well who was responsible for that. Someone much higher on the food chain.</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You wanna be friends?" Marley said, voice so tense it was almost trembling, "Fine. But I have my conditions."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Ah, it sure feels like home," Crowley sighed, pleased, "Alright, I'm all ears, little angelette."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"><em>First, stop calling me that</em>. "I need you to find something. It's...hidden somewhere in Hell."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">A glimmer of curiosity flashed in his eyes, "Could you possibly be more vague about it, crumpet?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley huffed out an exasperated sigh, "It's a stone. A piece of it, really. A piece of an emerald." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Lucy's little trinket?" Crowley asked, a look of mild confusion on his face. And interest, "Why?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"None of your business. You know about it?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The demon bristled importantly "Of course I do. The better question is..." he walked closer to Marley. She stepped further back, eyes trained firmly on his sneaky human form, "...how do <em>you</em> know about it?"</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">"It doesn't matter. T</span>hat's my condition," Marlene told him, "The emerald in exchange for my..." Crowley quirked a suggestive brow at the pause, "...cooperation."</p><p class="p6">"So you will give away your soul?" he asked, suspicious, "Willingly?"</p><p class="p6">"I believe you used the word <em>"lend"</em>. In which case yes, I will lend it to you. Willingly. For six months."</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley let out an incredulous laugh, "Oh, little angelette," Marlene clenched her jaws at he nickname, "I'm afraid that's not the way it works."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A lease always has an expiration date. You are the King of deals, should I really be explaining this to you?" It pleased Marlene to see the annoyance on the demon's face.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley pondered on it, "Fine, a year."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"A year?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Yes, one year. Once Lucifer is dealt with, you get it back." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"But it could take <em>years</em> </span>
  <span class="s3">— "</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh, please," Crowley scoffed, "he doesn't have the stamina to last this long. It will be over before you know it." </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s2">Giving </span>— <em>lending</em> — her soul to an opportunistic demon for an entire year. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days, or sixty <em>six</em> days if it was a leap one. That's not how Marlene'd imagined her year to go when she was drunkenly kissing Maddock on New Year's. </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Alright," she said at last, quiet and gravely.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley looked ecstatic, "Marvellous. Now...shall we seal the deal?" he got uncomfortably close, a mischievous glint in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley scrunched her nose, repulsed, "Nah-uh," she stumbled back, "There is no deal without the emerald. You get the stone, <em>then</em> we talk."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley's face was a mix of impatience, infuriation and reserve that was noticeably slipping, "Of course," he managed to keep his composure, even though his smile now seemed more like a snarl, "I'll prepare the papers."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene managed a nod, "How soon can you get it?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Crowley's dark eyes studied her face for a few highly uncomfortable seconds. She hoped he hadn't heard her loud gulp, "I'll be in touch."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The ride back to Bobby's house was filled with less tension. It was quiet and contemplative, accompanied by a peculiar sense of peace. For the first time since her life had spiralled into absolute chaos, Marlene had managed to regain some control over it. She wasn't floating anymore, she had a direction, a <em>purpose</em>. Life was always a little easier when you had a plan, however self-sabotaging and potentially suicidal it was.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">However, all the peace flew right out the window once Marley drove back into Bobby's yard and saw his van. And a familiar black Chevy Impala next to it. If only she could climb the pipe to her room, get back in bed and pretend she was sleeping. <em>Huh</em>. Today was weirdly reminiscent of her teenage years. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">It took Marlene some time to muster up the courage to get out of the car. And then some more time to brace herself for the damage control. <em>Here goes nothing</em>, she thought and opened the front door. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">There were voice coming from the living room, and all of them quieted when Marley closed the door. She winced at the loud sound </span>
  <span class="s3">— Bobby really needed to get those hinges fixed. </span>
</p><p class="p6">Slowly, she walked down the hall and stopped, facing the living room and the three very angry men, who were currently glaring at her. Alright, only two of them were glaring at her. Sam looked more concerned than murderous.</p><p class="p6">"Hey, you're back!" Marley chirped, "How was the case? Did you kill anyone?"</p><p class="p6">"Did <em>you</em>?" Dean deadpanned.</p><p class="p6">"Where the hell were you, kid?"</p><p class="p6">Marlene's cheerful smile dimmed. She cleared her throat, assuming a remorseful expression, "I...went into town."</p><p class="p6">"Marlene..." Dean growled.</p><p class="p6">"Dean, come on."</p><p class="p6">Marley almost dropped her act from the sheer shock of Sam standing up for her. He decided to be normal again? "I needed to go, okay?"</p><p class="p6">Bobby gave her a suspicious look, "Why?"</p><p class="p6">"Because! Because..." Dean crossed his arms and tipped his head forward, brows raised. Marlene sighed, "I had to buy something."</p><p class="p6">"What?"</p><p class="p6">A pause. "A lady thing."</p><p class="p6">It was way too much information for Bobby — something Marlene had counted on, and the old man instantly lost interest. Sam seemed deeply uncomfortable, eye contact long forgotten. Dean, however, was a different story.</p><p class="p6">"What lady thing?" he asked, deeply baffled.</p><p class="p6">Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled a disappointed, "Dean..."</p><p class="p6">"What?"</p><p class="p6">Sam gave him the look, staring as long as it took for his brother to understand. When it finally hit him, Dean let out a weak "Oh", then repeated it, more forcefully this time. Marley pursed her lips at his revelation. Dean cleared his throat and went to the kitchen to get them all some bear.</p><p class="p6">And that was that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Fathers and Sons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Seven Devils </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Chapter 22 / Fathers and Sons</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">"</span>
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I was afraid of looking into my heart...afraid of thinking seriously about anything...</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to admit to myself that I was not loved...</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s3">" </span>
</p><p class="p3">— Ivan Turgenev</p><hr/><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">For the first time in a while, things seemed to be going alright. Yes, the Armageddon was still very much on schedule and they had nothing figured out, but there's always quiet in the eye of a hurricane, and Dean was going to enjoy every second of it while it lasted. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"So, how do you even become a hunter?" Marlene wondered from the backseat, "Is there, like, a school? Hogwarts but for bloodthirsty lumberjacks? Everyone wears flannels and instead of broomsticks, there're Chevvies." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> She'd been asking these questions for the better part of their journey: "what was your first kill?", "what's your top-10 scariest monsters?", "what is your dream monster to kill?", "have you ever seen an alien?" The other part of the trip Marlene'd spent sleeping. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean cleared his throat, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. Sam's mouth twitched. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You don't <em>become</em> a hunter. You just do what you gotta do," Dean droned. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene leaned forward, "But what if you don't know how to do what you gotta do?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Then you die." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"You're not really selling this." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"I failed the marketing class at the hunter school." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley grinned, "I <em>knew</em> it." Dean shook his head, sighing. He was more willing to listen to Sam's sissy pop crap than bear another minute of this third degree torture, "How long till we get there?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"About an hour," Sam replied.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Oh. Can we </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p6">"No," Dean replied instantly.</p><p class="p6">Marley pouted, "But I need a bathroom."</p><p class="p6">"We stopped thirty minutes ago."</p><p class="p6">"I've had coffee."</p><p class="p6">"Which I told you <em>not</em> to get."</p><p class="p6">"That's not fair! I was sleepy — "</p><p class="p6">"<em>And</em> you would've been out now?"</p><p class="p6">Marley narrowed her eyes at him in the rear-view mirror. It was by pure miracle and thanks to that one semester she'd taken in rhetorics that she'd managed to talk herself out of the house arrest. That is, she'd all but begged Dean to let her come with them to Ohio, because she was going stir crazy and needed a breather. Marlene'd sworn she'd be on her best behaviour and wouldn't be a nuisance — the two things that had been quickly forgotten after an hour on the road. What? She had a small bladder.</p><p class="p6">"I say we stop at the next diner. I'd grab a bite," Sam suggested casually. Dean really wanted to veto the idea purely out of spite, but he was kind of starving too.</p><p class="p6">And so half an hour later they were sitting at a table in a small roadside diner. Neither Marlene nor Dean was particularly happy with the sitting arrangements, since they were stuck together on one side of the booth with Sam happily occupying the other. The bastard.</p><p class="p6">"You ready to order?" a waitress asked, taking out her notepad.</p><p class="p6">"Ah, yeah. I'll have a greek salad and lemon chicken."</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean put down the menu, "Double bacon cheeseburger with some chilli fries." </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">The waitress scribbled down the orders and looked at Marley, brows raised. "Make that two, please, plus a side of onion rings, thank you," she gave the waitress a jovial smile and then returned to the menu to pick a dessert. Marley glanced up when she finally felt Sam and Dean's surprised stares on her, "What?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing", they mumbled in unison and looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Deciding on an apple pie, she set the menu aside, "So, a bear attack, huh? Any theories yet?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"It <em>could</em> still be just a bear," Sam pointed out. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean snorted, "Yeah, right. The guy had his head ripped off in his <em>bedroom</em>. Don't know how well he and that bear knew each other, but it doesn't look like a crime of passion to me."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Fine, then what's next? You're gonna waltz into the sheriff's office with your fake forest ranger badges?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"We were thinking FBI," Dean told her importantly. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marley frowned, "Why would the FBI be looking into a bear attack?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Because it's not a bear attack."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>They</em> don't know that. It's gonna look weird."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Weirder than a man killed by a bear in his bedroom?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Well maybe it wasn't a bear."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam watched their back and forth with with amused puzzlement. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Then what was it?" </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Uh-huh!</em>" Marley exclaimed triumphantly, "so you agree it was a bear?"</span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s3">Dean sucked in an exasperatec breath, "I didn't say that </span>— " he was interrupted by a loaded plate being placed on the table — the smell of the burger made him forget what he was going to say. Dean thanked the waitress lady with a charming smile and then looked at his food with pure adoration.</p><p class="p6">Meanwhile, Marlene picked up the juicy burger and took a sizeable bite, closing her eyes from ecstasy. She'd been craving something salty and greasy for ages — and it'd definitely hit the spot. Riding the bliss wave, she destroyed an entire onion ring and finished it off with a forkful of chilli fries. Marley was too busy inhaling her food to see that Dean was doing the same, but Sam had sure noticed.</p><p class="p6">He was staring at them, his salad still untouched, "And now there's two of them," Sam mumbled and sent a measly piece of lettuce into his mouth.</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9">
  <span class="s1">
    
  </span>
</p><p class="p6"><span class="s3">Marley really <em>was</em> trying to help Sam and Dean with the research. She'd dug up Ohio's bear attack statistics for the last couple of years </span>— the numbers were much higher than you would've expected — read a bunch of articles about Bill Randolph and his gruesome death, even scrolled through a lengthy reddit post by a group of very angry hunters who were recruiting men to catch the wild beast and save the town. After all, when a bear gets into your <em>bedroom</em>, you can never really be safe, can you?</p><p class="p6">But the TV was on and there was a Dr.Sexy, MD marathon, and Marlene had already missed ten episodes — it was a shame not to catch up. About two episodes in, though, the research was long forgotten and Marlene was sprawled on the bad, eyes glued to the screen where Dr.Sexy was telling Dr.Piccolo that his wife had been offered a position in the hospital. Funny thing that — no one knew he <em>had</em> a wife, Marley included. That's why her face was twisted in shock and second hand betrayal when Dean and Sam came back.</p><p class="p6">"Marlene?" Sam walked into the room, worried. He took in her disturbed state, then looked at the TV. Just like that, concern became disappointment.</p><p class="p6">Marley glanced away from the screen for a brief second, "Oh, hey guys."</p><p class="p6">"What...are you doing?"</p><p class="p6">Clearly, it was the wrong question to ask. "You will <em>never</em> believe what happened," she exclaimed and turned fully to face them " Dr.Sexy's had a wife the whole time and now she's back in Seattle!"</p><p class="p6">Dean's eyes went wide at the plot twist, "What? That <em>bastard</em>," he hissed, shaking his head, "I knew there was something wrong with him, no one can be so perfect."</p><p class="p6">"Oh, that's not all," Marley warned him, "Get this: she's a <em>doctor</em>."</p><p class="p6">"A <em>doctor</em>?"</p><p class="p6">Marlene gave him the look that said "<em>uh-huh, can you believe it?</em>", "And they made her head Obstetrician at the Seattle Mercy."</p><p class="p6">Dean whistled, "Ellen will be pissed — "</p><p class="p6">"Guys," Sam cut in, giving both of them an unimpressed stare.</p><p class="p6">Dean cleared his throat and assumed a very preoccupied expression. Marley pursed her lips in shame and turned off the TV, "Sorry," she mumbled, switching into a sitting position, "So, what'd the police say?"</p><p class="p6">"They're sticking to the bear crap."</p><p class="p6">"But we managed to talk to Mrs.Randolph."</p><p class="p6">"The widow?"</p><p class="p6">Sam nodded, "She's a little..."</p><p class="p6">"Loopy," Dean offered.</p><p class="p6">"Why?"</p><p class="p6">"She thinks the Incredible Hulk did it," Sam explained, "Swears she saw him blasting through the door and killing her husband."</p><p class="p6">Marley furrowed her brows, pensive, "Norton or Bana?"</p><p class="p6">"Neither. Lou Ferrigno," Dean told her.</p><p class="p6">"Ah, yikes."</p><p class="p6">"Whatever that thing was, we still have to investigate the house, see if there're any leads," Sam said and looked at his brother, "Dean?"</p><p class="p6">But he'd already cracked a bottle of bear and plumped into the chair by the laptop, "You go. I'll do some research on the Missus."</p><p class="p6">Sam nodded, grabbing the car keys from the table, "I won't be long," he turned to leave when, suddenly, Marlene called after him.</p><p class="p6">"I'll come with you," she said brightly, already donning her jacket.</p><p class="p6">Sam was taken surprised by the offer — the helpless look on his face was priceless. When he looked at Dean for some assistance, his brother offered him nothing but a shit-eating grin and a suggestive wink.</p><p class="p6"><em>Dammit</em>.</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p6">"Well," Marlene said slowly, staring at the ginormous hole in the house, "They sure didn't use the doorbell."</p><p class="p6">Sam inspected the rubble, "It's gotta be at least eight-feet tall."</p><p class="p6">"Would've never thought the Hulk was based on a true story," Marley followed him inside the house. God, it was a mess: floorboards covered with cavernous footprints, the stairs completely wrecked, one of the walls a loud sneeze away from crumbling down.</p><p class="p6">"Alright, I'll go up to the bedroom, you take the first floor," Sam instructed, "Look for anything out out of the ordinary, like plasma or sulphur."</p><p class="p6">"You think it could be a demon?" Marley asked, the hairs on her arms standing on end. The mere thought of the disfigured faces gave her a chill.</p><p class="p6">"No, the smell's not foul enough. But you can never be too careful," a corner of his mouth quirked into a brief smile. It was so warm and genuine, with a slight awkwardness that made it all the more endearing. Something fluttered deep in Marlene's chest — her cheeks flushed a pale pink. <em>What the hell? </em></p><p class="p6">She shook off the strange feeling and chirped, "Got it," before skittering into the living room. It was relatively untouched — the creature'd made a clear beeline for the bedroom, as though it already knew where to find Billy Randolph. Perhaps, they were acquainted, friends, even. You never know if one of your pals has anger-management issues. It's always the quiet ones.</p><p class="p6">Marlene found nothing strange in the living room aside from a strange painting of a very naked man in the cupid outfit. No disgusting smells or suspicious substances, not even a drop of blood — in fact, everything was perfectly in order.</p><p class="p6">Marley made her way to the sunlit kitchen but stopped in her tracks — she'd stepped on something crunchy. Frowning, she looked down and saw what looked to be a candy wrapper. Another was lying not far from it, and one more further down the hallway. Marlene followed the trail of wrappers to the kitchen and found a small mountain of them on the dining table.</p><p class="p6">"Sam!" Marlene called.</p><p class="p6">She could hear him hurrying down the stairs, "Marlene?"</p><p class="p6">"In the kitchen!"</p><p class="p6">In a couple of seconds, Sam was by her side, staring at the sugary installation, "Are these...<em>candy wrappers?</em>"</p><p class="p6">"Uh-huh. Seems like the Hulk got him quicker than diabetes."</p><p class="p6">Sam picked up a few wrappers, a pensive look on his face, then shoved a handful of them into his pocket. "Um...what are you doing?" Marley asked, eyeing him with confusion.</p><p class="p6">"Come on," Sam started walking to "door". Marlene tried to keep up with him, "I think I know who we're dealing with."</p><p class="p6">"Who, a tooth fairy?"</p><p class="p6">Sam turned to face her when they got into the car, "A couple of years back Dean and I had a run in with a creature in Springfield, it called itself the Trickster. A demigod with reality warping powers and a crappy sense of humour. He drove people mad, turning fiction into reality and getting off on it," he told her, "He also had a sweet tooth."</p><p class="p6">Something rang through Marlene's memory, a certain golden-haired archangel stuffing his face with chocolate cake on the orange couch from Friends and an annoying fake laugh track that filled the fake coffeeshop. "And you didn't kill him?"</p><p class="p6">"Uh..." Sam considered his answer, "It's...complicated."</p><p class="p6">Marley's brows knitted together into a slight frown, "So, what're you gonna do now?"</p><p class="p6">Sam sighed, shrugging, and started the car, "First, we find him."</p><p class="p7"> </p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p8">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p9"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Marlene thought Dean was way too excited to hear about the Trickster's grand return. Especially for the guy who'd been killed by him about a thousand times.</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Good. I've wanted to bank that mother since Mystery Spot," he gritted out, twisting one of the candy wrappers in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Sam went awfully quiet. Marley quirked a suspicious eyebrow at his scheming expression. "You sure?" he finally asked, hesitant. </span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">Dean crumpled the wrapper and looked up at Sam like he was insane to even ask that question, "Yeah, I'm sure."</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"No, I mean are you sure you wanna <em>kill</em> him?"</span>
</p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1">"Son of a bitch didn't think about icing <em>me</em>. A <em>thousand</em> times," Dean deadpanned.</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s5">"</span>
  <span class="s1">No, I know, I mean, I'm just saying — "</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Dean raised his brows, "What <em>are</em> you saying?" </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Isn't killing him the only option?" Marlene asked, confused, "I mean, you guys failed to do it twice already, so..." she trailed off. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"He is <em>not</em> getting away this time," Dean growled. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, okay, but what if..." Sam began tentatively, "What if...we talk to him?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Dean wasn't sure he'd heard that right, "What?" </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"<em>Why?</em>"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Just think about it," Sam told them, "He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. He's a <em>demigod</em>. Maybe we can use him."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"For what?" Dean asked. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Okay, so Trickster's like a...like a Hugh Hefner type, right?" Sam glanced from his brother to Marlene, who was trying desperately to follow his train of thought, "Wine, women, song — maybe he doesn't want the party to <em>end</em>. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as <em>we</em> do. Maybe he'll <em>help</em> us."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Marley was unsettled by the description. It all sounded too familiar, too...</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Dean stared at him, "You're serious."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah!"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Ally with the Trickster?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Yeah," Sam replied, slightly less enthused. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him?" Dean asked with an accusatory squint, "Nice, Sammy."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"The world is gonna end, Dean," Sam said, resigned, "We don't have the luxury of a moral stand."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Marlene thought it sounded awfully like her father. That's probably what he'd told himself before giving the stone to Zachariah.</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Dean sighed. Marley could tell that he'd already given in, "How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?"</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"Well," Sam considered it for a moment, "He never takes just one victim, right? He'll show."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">With a silent nod, Dean threw the candy wrapper away. Marlene didn't like this plan. Not one bit, "I hope you guys know what you're doing," she told them quietly and stalked into the kitchen to get herself a bear. It was going to be a long day. </span>
</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p12">𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐𖤐</p><p class="p11"> </p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">After hours of staring at the police scanner, they'd finally got a lead. The report sounded weird enough to be right up their ally, so Sam and Dean were on their way to the old paper mill in a matter of minutes. Not before instructing Marley to stay inside until they'd dealt with the bastard and use the gun in case of an emergency, though. She'd lost count of how many times she said "Yes, fine," to make them finally go save the world. </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">When the door was closed, Marlene embraced the screaming quiet. She was back in the real world again, alone. The last time that happened </span>
  <span class="s4">— </span>
</p><p class="p13">"Ah, <em>finally,</em>" a familiar voice whined behind, "I thought they'd never leave."</p><p class="p13">Marley didn't turn around. She stood with her back to him for a couple of seconds, breathing in and out to calm her nerves. It was futile, though. No matter how long she took to mentally prepare for the exchange to follow, he would still manage to piss her off.</p><p class="p13">And so she faced him.</p><p class="p13">"Come on, let's throw a party in here!" Gabriel grinned, perfectly oblivious to Marlene's glower, "The duds are out, we can have some fun."</p><p class="p13">"I <em>knew</em> it," she bit out, walking closer to him, "This entire circus had you written all over it."</p><p class="p13">The angel spread his arms and bowed, "Why, thank you."</p><p class="p13">"<em>Trickster</em>? Really?"</p><p class="p13">"Shh..." Gabriel brought an index finger to his lips, "I'm undercover," he whispered.</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">Marlene narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. The audacity of this...this <em>creature</em>, "You can't be here." </span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">He scoffed, "Sure I can."</span>
</p><p class="p10">
  <span class="s1">"They will come back </span>
  <span class="s4">— "</span>
</p><p class="p13">"Oh, believe me, they aren't coming back any time soon," Gabriel told her casually and strolled into the small kitchen area. Marley followed his line of sight — he was going for the Milkybar Marley'd left unfinished on the table.</p><p class="p13">"What do you mean?"</p><p class="p13">The angel popped the rest of the chocolate bar into his mouth and smiled.</p><p class="p13">"What did you <em>do</em>, Gabriel?"</p><p class="p13">Too busy chewing to reply, he held up a hand. Marlene burned the angel with a murderous glare, tapping her foot impatiently. <em>God</em>, he was driving her mad. When the chocolate was finally done with, Gabriel said, "Okay, so I've sent them on a little adventure."</p><p class="p13">"Adventure?" Marley was losing it. No, she was <em>hyperventilating</em>. Sam and Dean weren't facing the Trickster — they were dealing with an <em>archangel</em>. It was so, so much worse. Sure, Marlene had told them about Gabriel, but only briefly and in passing, as a very distant mythical figure, the founder of her bloodline. A divine Alexander Hamilton who screwed everything that moved. She didn't think he was <em>after</em> them.</p><p class="p13">"Yes. It's pretty awesome, if I may say so myself," Gabriel said smugly.</p><p class="p13">"What...what do <em>you</em> want with them?"</p><p class="p13">"Nothing," he had an infuriatingly guileless look in his wide green eyes, "I just want them to play their roles. <em>All</em> of you to play your roles."</p><p class="p13">Marlene's frown deepened, "What are you talking about?"</p><p class="p13">"I'm talking about Sammy and Dean-o starring as Lucy and Mike while you and your daddy are safely tucked away in Heaven."</p><p class="p13">"You...you what?" she whispered.</p><p class="p13">"Oh, come on, Marls. The deal your dad made with Zachariah was <em>my</em> idea," Gabriel confessed, not remorseful in the slightest. Marlene gaped at him in shock, "We knew what Zack was planning and needed a backup plan in case Mario and Luigi screwed up with the seals — and <em>boy</em> did they deliver," he chuckled, "And once we hopped on the Apocalypse train, all that's left to do was damage control."</p><p class="p13">She felt like the ground had fallen through under her feet and she was sent into a free fall. Nothing to grasp for, no way to slow down — Marlene was plummeting down with a staggering speed, and there was no way to stop the descent into the darkness. <em>That</em> was what utter helplessness felt like.</p><p class="p13">"W-what...what about Zachariah?" she managed to grasp that question out of the whirlwind of thoughts in her head.</p><p class="p13">"I'll deal with him when the time comes," Gabriel shrugged.</p><p class="p13">"But...but I don't understand. You could to stop it. <em>Now</em>...you — you could prevent <em>all</em> of that from happening," Marlene implored, "Why <em>don't</em> you?"</p><p class="p13">Gabriel's face hardened. She'd never seen such a dark, stormy look in his eyes before, "Because it's not my problem. Your little friends jumpstarted the Apocalypse and now they have to suck it up and deal with it. Now, you and your dad <em>are</em> my responsibility — the byproducts of the most unfortunate one night stand <em>ever</em> — so I'm gonna help you, Marlene. But this fight between my brothers? I'm not getting in the middle of it. I've watched them suffer for thousands of years, and I'm done. Heaven or Hell, Lucifer or Michael — I don't care who wins, it needs to <em>end</em>."</p><p class="p13">"But you could get through to them, they're your <em>brothers</em>. Family is complicated, Gabriel, I know it better than anyone, but that's the thing — it's <em>family</em>. No matter the differences, we can always work things out. If only you stopped hiding and finally found the courage to face them..."</p><p class="p13">A hearty, ringing laughter burst from his mouth, "Oh, Marls. Aren't you a little hypocrite?" Gabriel shook his head, still laughing, "But you know what? You're right. We're all family, we should be honest with each other!" Something about the manic excitement in his voice didn't sit right with Marlene. It made her wary, "So, do tell me how it goes, Marls."</p><p class="p13">Before she could ask what the hell he was talking about, Gabriel snapped his fingers and Marley was no longer in the cheap motel room in Wellington, Ohio. No, she was freaking <em>blinded</em>. And who the hell was screaming?</p><p class="p13">When her eyes finally got used to the light, Marlene saw dozens of people. They were clapping, whistling and chanting something from their seats. Marley was in the freaking spotlight, both figuratively <em>and</em> literally, and all of those people were staring at her. It looked like...<em>oh no</em>.</p><p class="p13">Marlene whirled around and sure enough, there was a stage with a couch and an armchair — a setup for a talkshow. She knew what it was before the ominous voice started speaking, "<em>Marlene Ter-Gabrielyan was a college student with her entire life laid before her. Free, ambitious and hopeful for the future, she could never suspect what life had in store for her</em>," a dark music started playing. Marlene looked up at the big screen above the stage and saw pictures and videos of her that she didn't even remember taking. <em>How?...</em> "<em>She could never know that the only family she had — her father — would soon betray her. Arthur Ter-Gabrielyan manipulated and lied to his only daughter, giving the girl a false life with a false promise of happiness,</em>" there were a couple of gasps and murmurs in the audience, "<em>He struck a deadly deal with a bloodthirsty angel Zachariah behind her back and doomed half of humanity to a gruesome death. All in exchange for a place in Heaven and salvation from an eternity in the darkness. Now the question is...</em>" The audience stilled with anticipation, "<b><em>Can they forgive?</em></b>"</p><p class="p13">The stage lit up with bright colours, the show's title "<b>CAN THEY FOGIVE?</b>" shining in yellow neon in the background. The last phrase of the dramatic introduction was spoken by the host: a middle-aged man in a smart suit and a dashing smile of an old-time Hollywood dandy, his greying black hair sleeked back.</p><p class="p13">The audience was raving and clapping and whistling so loud, Marlene thought she'd not only go blind, but deaf, too.</p><p class="p13">"Welcome, welcome!" the man waved as he took his marked place on the stage, "I am Dr. Bill and you're watching "Can they forgive?" he introduced the name with the same theatrical mystery.</p><p class="p13">"Now, tell me: is there anyone in the audience who has been betrayed by their family? Please stand up," Dr. Bill swept his eyes over the seats, "So almost everyone," he concluded gravely, "Because the people whom we love the most have the most power to hurt us the <em>worst</em>." The people hummed in agreement, bobbing their heads.</p><p class="p13">"Hey," someone whispered from behind — it was the stage manager, "You have to take your spot." Marlene blinked at him, confused. The young neurotic man with a huge headpiece sighed. He grabbed her by the arm and led her to the place marked with a red cross on the floor, "Stand here until you're announced, got it?"</p><p class="p13">"Wait, I don't — " but he already left. Marley tipped her head back, sighing, "God<em>dammit</em>."</p><p class="p13">"...please welcome our today's guest, the girl who had it all and was left with nothing, the betrayed, they lied to, the girl with the angel blood..." there was a drumroll, "Marlene...Ter...<em>Gabrielyan!</em>"</p><p class="p13">A catchy melody that would definitely get stuck in Marley's head for at least a weak started playing, and a very annoyed assistant thrust her onto the stage and back into the spotlight.</p><p class="p13">"And there she is!" Dr. Bill exclaimed, spreading his arms. Marlene eyed the offered embrace with disgust and stopped a safe distance from the macho man. She never did like doctors, "Marlene, how are you feeling?"</p><p class="p13">"Uh — " Marley turned to the audience and squinted, blinded by the lights again.</p><p class="p13">"Oh, she's over<em>whelmed</em>," Dr. Bill laughed. The viewers joined him, endeared by her shyness, "Come, take a seat on the couch."</p><p class="p13">Indeed overwhelmed — with <em>fury</em> — Marley stumbled over to the couch and sat down on the very edge, ready to bolt at any given moment. There were cameras all around them, one pointing right into her face. She frowned into it — was this shit being aired?</p><p class="p13">"So, Marlene, when did you first realise your father was lying to you?" Dr. Bill asked from the armchair, his face full of sympathy.</p><p class="p13">"Gabriel, stop this <em>right now</em>," Marley gritted out under her breath.</p><p class="p13">"What was that?" the host asked.</p><p class="p13">"Look, <em>Dr. Bill</em>, there's been a mistake. I must go — "</p><p class="p13">"Uh, running away from your problems?" Dr. Bill exchanged a meaningful look with his audience, "We know all about it, don't we? But —" he turned to Marlene, his baby blue eyes disturbingly searching. She felt an urge to squirm under such scrutiny, "— we also know that no matter how fast you think you're running, sooner or later, they <em>will</em> catch up."</p><p class="p13">Marlene caught herself thinking that he was right. It was slightly unsettling.</p><p class="p13">"Was Arthur a good father to you?"</p><p class="p13">"Of course he was," she replied defensively. No one could fault Arthur for being absent or uncaring, it's his multiple personalities Marley had trouble with.</p><p class="p13">"How about that time he left you with your nanny for an entire <em>year</em>?" The audience gasped.</p><p class="p13">Marlene knew she owed them no explanation, but still felt she had to say it, "He was away in England, working on his PhD in Oxford."</p><p class="p13">"A smart man," Dr. Bill nodded in understanding, "And that time he left you alone for a week? How old were you, eleven?" Marlene squirmed in her seat, nervously picking at the beady bracelet on her wrist, "One of his friends brought him home. He had to bail him out of prison in <em>New-York</em>."</p><p class="p13">"It's none of your business," Marley said sharply.</p><p class="p13">"What was he charged with, Marlene?"</p><p class="p13">"I said — "</p><p class="p13">"It was assault, wasn't it?" Dr. Bill replied for her, no malice in his voice, "He'd beat up a man half to death in a bar brawl. All swept under the rug, of course with so many friends in higher places."</p><p class="p13">Many things about her father were starting to make sense now. But even before, she'd never questioned them. He was her hero, her <em>idol</em>. In Marlene's eyes, he could do no wrong.</p><p class="p13">"My father was a broken man. But he did all he could to give me a normal childhood," her voice was trembling with emotion, "I will be forever thankful for that."</p><p class="p13">Apparently, that was the answer Dr. Bill needed, "And that's the problem, isn't it? That admiration, that...gratitude. When you put people on pedestals, they tend to fall down. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall."</p><p class="p13">"What — listen, I can't be here, alright? Gabriel!" Marlene stood up and yelled, "Get me out of here, you son of a bitch!"</p><p class="p13">Neither the audience nor Dr Bill was disturbed by her outburst, "We can all see you're hurting, Marlene. Let us help you," he told her, the kindness in his words genuine. It made Marlene simmer down a little and return to her seat.</p><p class="p13">"Now tell us, why are you hurting?"</p><p class="p13">"This is ridiculous," she huffed out a humourless laugh.</p><p class="p13">"No feeling is 'ridiculous'," Dr. Bill chided gently, "They are all valid and allowed to be felt."</p><p class="p13">Marlene was feeling nervous. But not because she was in a fake reality, on a fake talk show with a fake host, but because it was actually making sense. And hitting all the right notes. Only she didn't care for the song. Didn't <em>want</em> to care. Marley wanted to laugh about it, make sarcastic jokes in the best self-deprecating fashion. She didn't want to admit how much it actually bothered her. Because then...then it was real.</p><p class="p13">"I'm hurting because..." she began, staring at her fingers sprawled on the faded jeans, "because he lied to me. Not about who I am, not even about what he'd done, but about who he <em>was</em>. See, my father he...he was an exceptional people's person. He made conversation a form of art, and he was the artist, and the world was his <em>stage</em> — as cliched as it may sound," Marlene worried the frayed sleeve of her red sweater, "It amazed me, watching him work the crowd. I always thought, 'Wow, he got all those suckers wrapped around his finger'. People...they were his audience, you know? He lived off their praise, their admiration, their attention. He was the Houdini and I...well, I was backstage, watching the magic happen. In on the trick," she chuckled bitterly and wet her chapped lips, "I guess it just never occurred to me that I was actually one of the clueless spectators, entranced by his magic. And so...he had me tricked, too."</p><p class="p13">The entire set went quiet, not a single whisper in the audience. Marlene felt her eyes prickle and quickly blinked the tears away — she hated when people cried on television. They usually became ugly memes, which...there was no greater honour, if she were completely honest.</p><p class="p13">"Marlene," Dr. Bill said after a prolonged, pregnant pause, "What would you tell your father if he was here right now?"</p><p class="p13">Oh, she'd been thinking about it for <em>months</em>, "I'd tell him that he's a self-important, stuck up narcissistic snob with disturbing sociopathic tendencies and that I'd rather end up in the deepest pits of hell and become Lucifer's personal jester than have to share eternity with him in Heaven, enjoying carefree, five-star afterlife bought with millions of innocent lives," and she could finally take a breather.</p><p class="p13">Dr. Bill smiled, "And what would you say if I told you he was here?"</p><p class="p13">Marlene snorted, "I'd tell you you needed to see a doctor."</p><p class="p13">The audience exploded with laughter, and so did the gracious host, his white teeth as blinding as the spotlights.</p><p class="p13">"Well, Marlene, on this show, we make the impossible happen. So please welcome..." the smile slipped off Marley's face when the drum started rolling, "Arthur..." her eyes were darting around the set in panic, like tennis balls on Wimbledon, "Ter..." it couldn't be — "...<em>Gabrielyan!</em>"</p><p class="p13">As the catchy tune started playing again and the wave of clapping took over the live audience, someone appeared from backstage. Someone wearing a perfectly pressed navy shirt and a pair of expensive charcoal trousers. Someone with the same hazel eyes as her own. Someone who was lost and disoriented until he spotted <em>her</em>.</p><p class="p13">"Marlene?"</p><p class="p13">"Now, the question is," Dr. Bill held a suspenseful pause even though everyone knew what would come next, "<em>Can they forgive?</em>"</p>
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